After the Story Ends
by outfight
Summary: You think your Dragonborn is so overpowered that the quests of Skyrim become boring? You think no one in Skyrim properly acknowledge your mighty deeds that save the world? Then I guess you can understand a bit about how Saitama feels as the Dragonborn... or not. As an inevitable result, this Elder Scrolls story with One Punch Man characters is AU... Very AU.
1. §0: The End of the Beginning

**Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction based on The Elder Scrolls Series of Bethesda and One Punch Man by ONE & Yusuke Murata. The characters mentioned belong to their respective owner.**

 **AN: English is not my mother tongue, so if you notice any grammar mistake, please point it out. And I haven't write anything for a while plus this is actually my first fanficiton, so I am really open for suggestion, especially concerning the writing structure or a character seemed to be OOC. And I am not an expert on The Elder Scroll lore either, and you are welcome to point out the errors I made.**

 **Finally, this first chapter can be viewed as a prologue. I am not sure where the story may end, since this is in the world of Skyrim, and the story in Skyrim never ends.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

Tsun, who had been once a shield-thane to Shor, the creator of Nirn, had seen many strange things in his not inconsiderable span of existence. And now as the god of trials guarding the whalebone bridge to the Hall of Valor in Sovngarde, anyone would think that Tsun should not be surprised by anything. However, the unlikely happened and he saw the greatest anomaly that fateful day.

Hall of Valor was the paradise of the spirits of Nord heroes, and guarding the path was an honorable duty. Tsun would only allow the worthies to cross the bridge and into the Hall, therefore when there came a bald man with a white cape dressing in yellow from top to bottom and, to top it off, pairs of red gloves and boots, he could not help but frown a little.

"What brings you, wayfarer grim, to wander here, in Sovngarde, souls-end, Shor's gift to honored dead?"

"Oh. Yeah, I am looking for something." The bold man replied in a rather nonchalant tone. "Did you happen to see a big black dragon with glowing red eyes by any chance? "

"You pursue Alduin. A fateful errand. No few have chafed to face the Worm since first he set his soul-snare here at Sovngarde's threshold. But Shor restrained our wrathful onslaught - perhaps, deep counselled, your doom he foresaw." Tsun replied without giving a hint that even a god could be confused at time like this. Nevertheless, a scene like this, a living with such unimpressive looks and almost careless attitude walking on the land of afterlife in a quest of defeating the world eater himself, just seemed so surreal. Was this bald man really the last Dragonborn? Was this really by fate?

"Alduin…" The man seemed to be confused and hesitated for a moment, then recalled something. "Yes that was his name. Alduin. Do you know where he is? I think I saw him when entering this misty place, but he disappeared before I can beat him up."

"…" What kind of Dragonborn, no, what kind of man talked like this in such a sacred place? But true enough, Alduin stopped patrolling the sky upon the arrival of this man, almost as if ..., as if he was hiding?! How could it be?

"This fog is quite annoying…" The bald man continued by himself. "Ha! What was I thinking? I should just get rid of it earlier."

With that being said, the weird dressing man raised he fist and punched into air. In a shocking moment, the mist covering the atmosphere dispersed into clear sky as the harsh wind causing by the swing of an arm passed by. And without the cloaking of mist, the grand stature of Alduin was finally revealed.

Before anyone could take any action, the bald man disappeared into a yellow flash and stopped right in front of Alduin.

Then he punched.

Alduin exploded.

There was silence among Tsun and the other Nord heroes who came out of the Hall hearing the commotion.

This was the _glorious_ day that Alduin, the Word Eater, was defeated and destruction of the world was prevented. All by one punch of this regular looking bald man who seemed to come out of nowhere.

The only consolation was the fact that he was really dragonborn, and the prophecy was fulfilled. Right?

"Well, that took care of things." The bald man said without breaking a sweat, and turn towards the speechless crowd. "By the way, I think I am lost. Do you guys know how to get to Whiterun? I left my groceries there."

* * *

 **More AN: It's short, I know. And most of the settings of the story are not yet established in the chapter. Hopefully, I will be able to get on with them soon.**


	2. §1: No Body Knows Who He Is

**AN: In case you guys did not know already, Alduin is actually the final boss of Skyrim main quest. That is why the title says "After the Story Ends". This chapter will do some wrap up job and explain some more of who Saitama is in this story, which is practically the same as in OPM.**

* * *

 _Where did my groceries go?_ Was the only thought came up when Saitama arriving at Whiterun.

* * *

After defeating Alduin, who seemed to be some kind of ultimate god villain about to destroy the world or something. Saitama turned his attention again towards the towering Nord-looking man he was talking with earlier and a few men and women running out from the Hall of Valor to witness the great deed. They said something genteel about the _battle_ , if you could call it that, and Saitama did not quite bother to understand. All he caught is that they could send him back to Nirn, the mortal plane where Tamriel, hence Skyrim, hence Whiterun resided. It might take him awhile to get to Whiterun on foot, but that was good enough, he supposed. Hopefully, they would not send him back to some place like Elsweyr, where he would have to cross the whole continent to get back to Whiterun.

* * *

It was as good as it gets as Saitama was dropped to the top of the highest mountain of Skyrim, which was not too far, for Saitama at least, from Whiterun on foot. The few things that actually bothered him was that the tall men sent him back by shouting at him loudly, which was rude, and the things happened after he arrived at the snow covered mountaintop.

He met a greenish vomit colored dragon, who named Paarthurnax as he later learned, for the first time. And he also almost punch that dragon and the many ones flying around the sky to oblivion because of his past not so pleasant experiences with other dragons, if not for the fact that the dragon actually tried to talk to him civilly.

Then the dragon started to give a speech. That is just _great_.

When Saitama interrupted him and asked him politely to summarize the points, the result was awkward silence.

"Never mind. Nice to meet you guys, and I have some important things to take care of… so see you." Saying that, Saitama left quickly by scaling the mountainside.

And why are those guys calling him Dragonborn or Dovahkiin, are they some synonyms of "unknown person" for dragon related people?

* * *

He clearly remembered he had dropped his groceries in a corner around the Whiterun gate, but he could not seem to find it anywhere. And he decided it might be a good idea to ask the guard.

"Let me guess - someone stole your sweetroll..." The guard asked him impatiently.

"No, actually it is my groceries." Saitama replied.

"You are reporting someone stole your groceries?" The guard's tone now filled with incredulity.

"Not actually stole it. At least I am not sure. All I know is that I put it around here a few days ago to chase after a dragon, and now it disappear." In hindsight, maybe he should put his stuff in some place safer. But who could know it would take so long to find the dragon so he could punch it?

"So you are reporting for some _groceries_ you lost _a few days_ ago." The guard could not help but felt like he was dealing with one of those crazy idiots again. A dragon, who would chase a dragon? Then again, the guard's duty was boring anyway. Maybe talking to this man would bring some entertainment, since this bald man seemed to be in a new level of craziness with his insane talk and that banana looking suit. So the guard continued to ask. "Maybe you should start from the beginning. For example, why are you chasing a dragon?"

"Do I really have to?" That question annoyed Saitama greatly, he does not want to talk about something long and boring. "I mean it's kind of a long story. I am just looking for my groceries."

"Yes, every detail matters when it comes to finding things." Noticing the annoyance of the bald man, the guard suppressed a laugh, and kept on pushing. Now he really wanted to hear what the bald man could made up. "Let us start with your name and occupation."

"My name is Saitama. I am a hero of hobby, and I currently have no job." Saitama answered. "I do hunt sometimes, and I am willing to accept some bounty quests too."

"Bounty quests, right." Why would anyone give those quests to some crazy weird man like you? The guard thought. And what was a hero of hobby? "Now, tell me why you are chasing a dragon, from beginning to end."

Saitama sighed, and considered to leave at this moment, but decided against it. Although it felt not worthy to go through all these troubles for a bag of groceries, the guard he asked was taking his job so seriously, and he could not find it in his heart to let the hard-working guard down. "It all started when a big black dragon with glowing red eyes named Alduin came out of nowhere and attacked me a few days ago. I had dealt with some dragons earlier and none of them were as strong as this Alduin, since only he survived my first punch…"

"Wait. You mean you are some sort of dragon hunter?" The guard should not be surprised that the story would start off crazy. "And you kill dragon by _punching_ them?"

"You can say that. I am a hero, remember? So I defeat monsters." Saitama kept going, totally ignoring the skeptical looks in the guard's eyes. "And I use my fist since I am not really good with any other weapons."

"But you look like a Breton, how about magics?" The guard has no idea why he asked this.

"Never get one of those to work… Now, where was I?"

"Alduin survived your punch."

"Right. He then escaped to who knows where. But since he was strong and might threaten a lot of people's lives. I felt obliged to chase him down and kill it."

"That was very noble of you." The guard said sarcastically. "So what was your great plan to track down the dragon?"

"I asked around whenever I met someone who might have known." Saitama replied, seemingly not notice any hint in the guard's tone.

"I bet it worked _so well_." The guard scoffed. "So what does it have to do with your groceries?"

"I was shopping for some necessities at the Whiterun market that day, then the dragon attacked."

"I remember the attack." So there were at least something true in all the insanity, as it seemed. The guard thought. "Not much was lost though. The dragon left quickly."

"And it came to my mind that I should just go asked another dragon." Saitama continued. "And with some persuasion, the dragon agreed to take me to some secluded mountain areas so I can go through a portal to find Alduin in Sovngarde."

"You are saying you went to Sovngarde and came back?" The guard now felt a little insulted as a Nord. This story was going too far. "You, a regular Breton. To Nordic afterlife and back."

"Yeah. And I managed to find Alduin and make him explode by punching him." The bald man seemed to be unwavering. "But the paths there are quite complex and I got lost. Or else, I should have return sooner and maybe my things would still be here."

Now the guard started to want to arrest this suspicious bald man for lollygagging, completely forgetting that was him who asked the bald man to tell the story in the first place. However, in the end the guard decided against it; it was too much unnecessary work.

"Your story is _interesting_." To get rid of this weird man, the guard ended up saying. "But the chance of finding your groceries is slim. If we do find them, we will return them to your place. Have a nice day."

"Okay." With that being said, Saitama started back to his temporary camp outside Whiterun, where he lived currently.

* * *

"Wait. The guard didn't even ask where I lived!" Saitama just realized that after arriving at his camp.

* * *

And this was the day when Alduin, the world eater, was defeated and the Nirn was saved.

This was the day should gone down in history and been sung by all future generations.

The only problem was no one in Tamriel knew or believed this mighty deed was completed.

And no one knew Saitama was the one who did it, or the fact that he was Dragonborn, the warrior with the body of a mortal and soul of a dragon destined to destroy Alduin. Not even himself.

As a result, this day would seem to be just another regular day in Skyrim.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **So the story ends without starting properly. But don't worry, there are always other things to do in Skyrim. *Wink***

 **In case you did not notice in the text. I will denote a few settings mentioned here.**

 **Saitama is the Dragonborn.(Maybe?) And all those who know what is a Dragonborn and see his deed first hand (sometimes) realize it. Those supernatural divine entities and such would know it. Anyone else don't, Saitama included since he don't even know what is a dragonborn.**

 **Saitama now lives temporarily in a camp outside Whiterun, since he takes part time jobs like he did before became a professional hero in OPM verse.**

 **I decide to make Saitama a Breton in Elder Scrolls lore, but unlike most Bretons, he knows nothing about magic. He is only physically strong, very strong, supernaturally strong.**

 **Oh and there are some references of running gags in Skyrim, if you look closely.**


	3. §1: Less Than Halfway to Success

**AN: Again, I feel I was struggle with my writing skill. *sigh* Anyway, this is some sort of short filler chapter. It contains some more Skyrim joke/game mechanic references. I am writing a parody after all. So I have to apologize if this is not as funny for those who have never played Skyrim. Also, if there are some things you are confused about the story, please do tell me via comment or PM.**

* * *

And yes, in the previous chapter, I just finished the main quest of Skyrim with 2000 words and force the _Dragonborn_ to skip a lot of game content.

In an alternative universe, the prophesied Dragonborn would have to go through many difficult quests, meet many different important individuals, and perform many legendary feat in order to prevent the doom of the world. However, this was not that universe, and the _Dragonborn_ just ran into Alduin and casually chased him down without really acknowledged what he had accomplished. And the days in Skyrim still went on as nothing happened.

The news in Skyrim never traveled fast, especially for a jobless man who lived in a former bandit camp. It was not like, there would be some random couriers who was willing to search everywhere for him till the edge of the world to deliver the news, right?

Hence, sometimes, it was necessary for our hero, Saitama, to actually patrol Skyrim. And being a law abiding citizen, he restricted himself from crossing the border illegally. He had even heard a rumor about someone had been beheaded for such a crime, though he never confirmed whether it was real.

* * *

Saitama recently overheard that the dragons had returned to Skyrim. Unbeknownst to him and the most part of Tamriel, he had already vanquished the evil dragon Alduin who lead the hostile dragons, and the only threats left are only some dragons who still refused to accept the truth. Therefore, not long after he returned to the camp sulking about his missing grocery, he decided it was time to travel around again. After all, staying in an empty camp without any entertainment was straight boring.

Growing tired of Skyrim's snowy weather, Saitama chose to go south first, and the first stop would be apparently Riverwood, a small village not far from Whiterun city. It was a peaceful journey, if you did not count the occasional harassment from some straying wolves, that is.

A strip of rainbow decorated the gurgling stream, and the whistling wind would have whipped up his hair if he had any. All in all, beautiful.

But Saitama noticed none of it.

Three years ago, he had resolved to be a hero, and from that day on, he trained so hard that he lost all his hair, and gained the strength to defeat any opponent in a single punch. As a side effect, he lost something along with his hair – his emotions. He stopped experiencing any excitement, enthusiasm or the fear for loss during fight, and sensed something human had been lost along with them.

* * *

Upon arriving at Riverwood, Saitama realized that he was running out of supplies and was in dire need of some incomes.

That would not be necessary if he had not lost his grocery in Whiterun. Saitama sighed internally, a little irritated.

He heard there was a guy, Sven, who was willing to pay someone to deliver a letter. But Saitama got turned down because the man stated that Saitama looked "too intimidating and weird" and might "scare his beloved Camilla with that bald head". And it took all Saitama's might to resist the urge to punch that guy into Oblivion.

Then people said there was this man had his Golden Claw stolen, whatever it might be. However, the man apparently was the brother of that Camilla and they lived together in the general goods store. So Sven decided to _borrow_ his own mother's chair and sit at the door of the store to prevent Saitama from getting close to the woman he had a crush on. And be a bard as he might, WHY WAS SVEN KEPT PLAYING A FLUTE while GUARDING A DOOR?

In the end, Saitama settled for earning some septims by chopping some woods and selling them. The money was not much, but better than nothing. At nightfall, he bought some food supplies in the inn, and rented a room.

This was when he heard the "good news": Camilla and her brother both thought Sven was too noisy and was affecting the business greatly by blocking the door. Camilla also thought this was some kind of stalking and Sven was plain creepy. So they threw Sven out, with Camilla saying she would "never want to see him again".

Smiling upon this satisfying news, Saitama fell asleep on his rented bed soundly.

* * *

 **AN: I am sorry Sven, but you kept playing your flute in my first Skyrim playthrough when being my follower. It was quite annoying.**

 **I am thinking about bringing some more characters OPM in, but haven't decide who or how. So don't be surprised if I do.**

 **Any suggestions are welcome.**

 **So thanks for reading! Review if you'd like.**


	4. §1: It Always Started at Helgen

**AN: I am going to shamelessly said I feel my writing got much better in this chapter. It's a longer chapter also. Skyrim, be ready to meet Saitama!**

* * *

 **Helgen, Falkreath Hold**

It was another average day in Helgen, just as any other day after Sten and his group moved back in this abandoned city. The truth is, calling Helgen a city would not be precise these days; calling it a wasteland of debris and rubbles would be much more accurate.

Before becoming a bandit and part-time scavenger, Sten had once been a citizen of Helgen, running a small inn, which he inherited from his father. Everything changed after the day when the dragon attacked.

He still shuddered at the memory of that day.

 _One moment, it was a bright sunny weather; the next moment, the sky was covered in black cloud, and day became dark as night. From the ever-stopping whirling cloud, meteors rained down and shattered everything in their way. Buildings collapsing, people screaming, all living things scattering for their lives._

 _However, Sten could only stare._

 _It was as if his body did not belong to him anymore, as if his limbs refused to follow his command. This must be the wrath of gods._

 _Did they displeased the devines to deserve such a fate?_

 _And he saw it, the gigantic dark dragon in the sky. With every word it pronounced, the atmosphere tremored. Searing fire came from its mere voice threatening to devour everything._

 _Sten knew this was what the end of the world feel like._

"Hey, Sten!"

A yell brought him back to present, and Sten turned his head towards the sound. It was Lokir, who was also there at that day. In fact, being caught as a horse thief and suspected to be an accomplice of Rebellions, Lorik almost got his head chopped off that day if not for the dragon attack.

Thief or not, it did not matter at this point. Now he was just one of the group gathering at Helgen, who had lost their home or did not have any place to stay.

"There is a strange man outside the gate. Traveler of some sort." Lorik came closer. "Holgar is talking to him."

Holgar was a well-built Nord, stood half a head taller than average, and with impressive muscle mass as well. Overall, he had a perfect look of a raider, just not the heart. Instead of robbing the passerby, he warned them off more often than not.

"I'd better take a look." Sten groaned internally, and started toward the gate, halfheartedly wondering since when had himself become the unofficial leader of the group.

* * *

"That's close enough!" Holgar, standing on the platform above the gate, shouted with all his might, trying to make the man in strange yellow suit leave before anyone else turned up for the heist.

Holgar often wondered why his group would want to be bandits while most of them were originally law-abiding citizens. Lost of hope after witnessing the destruction? Lack of food with all of their property gone? Scarcity of the resources on a ravaged land? Maybe all of the above.

He could not recall who brought up this idea in the first place - probably that petty horse thief. Unfortunately, more than half of the band supported it, to his dismay, and here he was, shushing off a likely victim.

It was not working too well.

The man did not stop, not even slow down slightly. And with that full body yellow suit, white cape and bald head, Holgar speculated he might be from an far off land with different fashion and language.

"I'm warning you, back off!" Holgar could only swing his fist wildly, hoping the gesture would scare off the uninvited guest.

"Excuse me." Stopping right in front of the gate, the bald man asked, somewhat politely. "Are you a bandit?"

So he did understand the words.

Before Holgar could attempt to intimidate again, Sten arrived beside him and took over the conversation.

"What do we look like?" Sten yelled. "Of course we are."

"Because that man was warning me away." The man in yellow scratched his bald dead, as if confused. "I thought bandits rob people."

Was this man mocking us? Offended, Sten first shot Holgar a stern glare, then barked at the stranger. "Leave your valuables here and bugger off! Or you'll be dead."

As if on cue, the gate opened, revealing ten individuals - seven men, three women, all armed and wearing mismatching set of leather armors. They rushed out quickly and surrounded the lone traveler.

However, the bald man seemed unwavering and having no intention to do as he said.

Sten hesitated.

It was not because the traveler was menacing that Sten did not order to attack - the man was extremely regular. It was the fact that they had not actually attacked anyone before. The travelers before would just leave the belongings and scrambled, fearing the superior numbers of the bandit group.

Sten just realized how inexperienced they were as raiders. So should they assault this unarmed man for money? What if they accidentally kill him? For crying out loud, they are bandits, yes, but not psychopaths!

In fact, if the man just ran away, or started attacking, Sten would at least know what to do. But in this silent standoff, Sten just grew more and more distressed with the indecisive and uncertainty. Just when he was about to snapped, a roar from the sky broke the stillness into a thousand pieces.

 _Dragon…_ Sten and his band blanched.

* * *

In Riverwood, Saitama overheard that there was a bandit group residing in the ruins of Helgen, and decided to check it out as a hero. He did not expect to meet a band of people with such un-bandit-like behaviors. Truth to be told, Saitama thought they might be just some impolite hobos or beggars.

While pondering whether he should just leave or lecture them to get some jobs, Saitama heard the sound of a dragon approaching.

After checking out his surroundings with a glance, Saitama concluded it would be better to use less than his regular strength to punch the dragon, so that the _civilians_ close to him would not be harmed.

When the dragon swept pass right above them, Saitama jumped. A well-placed strike hit it square in the jaw. And with his force limited, the dragon died with a shattered skull instead of being blown into pieces. The momentum then carried the dragon away until it crashed into mountainside.

Good, no civilian was hurt and no property damaged. Saitama was content that he remembered to check the environment around him beforehand this time.

* * *

Sten saw the creature in his worst nightmare came to life again, only to be crushed in one single punch. The crew were awestruck and could hardly believe what they just witnessed, that was when another unusual phenomenon aroused.

The dragon that had just been slain started to vaporize into ashes in blazing flame. Colorful white glow emitted from the large body and rushed towards the stranger like blooming smoke. As if the life source of the dragon was devoured by him, leaving only the lifeless skeleton frame where the mighty dragon once lied.

Sten barely caught the breathless whisper escaped Holgar's lips.

"Dragonborn…"

He knew that name as well, the heroes in the ancient tales of Skyrim. Before the last disappearance of the dragon race, the Dragonborns were blessed with the ability to slay the dragons and steal their powers. Was that what just happened?

Then he looked to the stranger, who also turned his attention towards the group.

"There is that word again." The caped man asked, expression bland, almost bored. "What does that even mean?"

Wait, so this man did not know what a Dragonborn is and did not feel surprised when he just consumed a dragon soul? All these astonishments and confusions made Sten's head spin.

And was this man using some kind of alteration magic to enhance his jump and hit?

More importantly, if the Dragonborn truly came, does it mean Skyrim could be saved from Dragons?

* * *

Saitama contemplated for a brief moment after Holgar explained to him what a Dragonborn is. At the same time, one of the man around Saitama started to argue with Holgar about whether Dragonborn was just a myth.

"I think you are mistaken." Saitama interrupted the argument. "I can't be a Dragonborn. I never feel I gained any power from dragons."

"What do you mean? We all just saw it! The rainbow light and …" Holgar exclaimed, agitated. "Didn't you feel anything?"

"Nope." Saitama replied with the same bored attitude. "Only some ringing in my ears. Like someone talked too loud in my head."

"Try to shout." Holgar refused to give up. "The legend said only Dragonborn can shout without training. In the way dragons shout."

"Sounds embarrassing…"

"Just try it." Holgar urged.

"Fine." Saitama relented. He took a deep breath and then…

"Ahhhhh-"

 _It was indeed embarrassing._ Saitama thought with frustration, as the horrible shriek echoed in mountains.

* * *

 **High Hrothgar, the Throat of the World**

It had been days after the banishment of Alduin, yet Arngeir still could not comprehend the connotation of this deed.

As a Greybeard, Arngeir, like his peers, spent his entire living secluded in the mountain sanctuary High Hrothgar and mastering the Way of the Voice. With abundant knowledge in Thu'um – or shout as in common language – and dragons, he certainly knew what a Dragonborn was and the significance of victory against Alduin. What perplexed Arngeir was from where the Dragonborn emerged, since when he started to track the World Eater, and with what measure he defeated his archenemy.

The absorption of dragon soul was a unique event that happened when a Dragonborn was in the vicinity right after a dragon was killed, and the Dragonborn would be able to gain knowledge of the dragon from such consumption. Furthermore, this event would alarm all other dragons within a large radius.

However, from the conversation with the Greybeards' Grand Master, Paarthurnax, Arngeir realized that the old dragon had not sense such occurrence for ages, and there was no foreboding sign that the Dragonborn already appeared. Even with the knowledge of Paarthurnax, who was once the lieutenant of Alduin and now the leader of many dragons, it seemed that this Dragonborn just came out of the blue, fulfilled his destiny, and disappeared into the air again without any information left.

It was also confirmed by Paarthurnax that this man was indeed with dragon blood when they met face-to-face that one time on the top of the mountain, but none of the dragons present there knew the existence him.

Seemingly, this Dragonborn had never absorbed a dragon soul before and likely never used a Thu'um.

Then it went back to the question of how a Dragonborn without shout defeated Alduin.

Arngeir, for the first time since he had chosen the life of a Greybeard, felt an uncontrollable curiosity on such secular event, but managed to quench it with focusing on meditations.

Then the message came from Paarthurnax – a Dragonborn consumed a dragon soul in Helgen.

Thus, Greybeards filled the heaven with a mighty Thu'um.

" _DOVAHKIIN_ "

By summoning the Dragonborn here, they could give him guidance of the Voice. And perhaps, new lights would be shed on that mysterious event.

* * *

 **Helgen**

The _bandit_ group now settled around a bonfire, eating, drinking and celebrating their escape from certain death of dragon wrath. Saitama sat with them, since they insisted that he joined the feast as a token of their gratitude. Although the feast was not grand and Saitama did not help people because he wanted to be recognized, he had to admit sometimes it felt nice to be appreciated.

Suddenly, there was a rumble in the air.

" _DOVAHKIIN_ "

A thunderous roar reverberated in clear sky, shaking the earth beneath their feet.

"You guys should go take your clothes inside." Saitama raised his head. "It sounds about to rain."

"But there is no cloud." Sten looked up as well, frowning. "Maybe just another bizarre weather."

Sten's band were _not_ consisted of people could be counted, to any extent, as educated. It was natural that none of them recognized that was a call from Greybeards. Besides, after that awful scream Saitama made earlier, everyone agreed that he could not possibly be Dragonborn.

So the celebration persisted.

At the end of the night, Saitama was satisfied when the group promised not to rob people anymore - they did a lousy job at it anyway. Sten said they would consider hunting, growing crops, trading with cities nearby and, more importantly, rebuilding Helgen – their city.

Because now they knew dragons could be defeated and there would be hope no matter whether Dragonborn came or not.

Though still, no one believe Saitama's workout routines and life schedule made him this strong, and they agreed not to probe more since everyone deserves to keep some secret, completely ignoring Saitama's effort to convince them it was the truth.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **If you play Skyrim, you would know in the original story, Dragonborn was caught crossing border illegally and brought to Helgen to be executed as a suspect of accomplice of the Stormcloak Rebellions. Lorik was among the suspects as well and was shot dead by archers for trying to escape in a stupid way. And Dragonborn succeeded to escape the execution in the chaos of Alduin's attack on Helgen.**

 **That was not the case in this story, Saitama was never there when Alduin hit. (Consider it an alternative start, if you will.) And Lorik somehow survived. Sten and Holgar are just random characters I made up, who may or may not appear again in later story.**

 **By the way, why there are there so many bandits in Skyrim?**

 **Thanks for reading. R &R if you'd like.**


	5. §1: The Way of the Voiceless

**AN: I decide that if other characters from OPM appear in this story, they will have to obey the laws of the Elder Scroll world, and be somewhat _normal_ people in Skyrim. It means that they will have background/ability/class/skills etc. just like any other characters in Skyrim, but with the same personalities (hopefully).**

 **And I hope I wrote Greyberads and the lore of shout correctly in this chapter, if not, please tell me.**

* * *

 **Ivarstead, The Rift**

Saitama had no idea how he ended up in Ivarstead, since he originally meant to head towards Falkreath. Apparently, a wrong turn in Skyrim could result in great deviation from one's target.

Fortunately, it did not bother Saitama much because of the nature of his trip – his journey did not had a clear destination in the first place. Maybe he should have looked at the road sign more carefully next time when he actually had a specific goal.

What he did remember was to change out of his hero uniform before he left Helgen. His yellow suit was the gift of an old man he once helped – that story would have to wait for another day – and the senior's taste of fashion was, to put it mildly, questionable. If truth to be told, Saimata, like most normal people, did not approve the style of the suit. However, the endurance of the clothes material proved useful for someone as invincible as he was. As it turned out, this was another case of practical over appearance. And Saitama was never someone who cared much about looks – he would get used to it sooner or later.

But the same could not be said for the people around him, and Saitama experienced _a lot_ of rejection due to this outfit - He even got kicked out of an inn once. As a result, Saitama usually only donned the his hero suit when the need arose, be it fighting dragons, hunting predators, dealing with bandits or anything else that could threaten the integrity of his clothes. That was, as long as he remembered, and had enough time to do so.

Thence, Saitama entered Ivarstead wearing unobtrusive and did not bought much attention to himself from the villagers.

The first thing he did after he arrived, was to find a store to sell the pelts he obtained from some unlucky wolves daring to attack him on his journey.

He did not find any. Actually, an inn was the only store in Ivarstead, and there was where Saitama went.

And there came again the question of how he should handle the wolf pelts, which he did not intend to haul around any longer. That was when he noticed a displeased Nord woman talking to an adventurer in an armor made of odd Dwarven design. Judging from that he only carried a one-handed weapon, the adventurer was probably a Spellsword.

From what Saitama had gathered in their conversation, the woman was having a bear problem that ruined her business.

"Tell you what." The woman offered. "Bring me ten of their pelts from anywhere in Skyrim I'll gladly pay you for thinning out the heard."

"Not interested." The man replied with a calm demeanor, and then left the inn with the woman sulking.

 _Bear pelt, huh?_ That did not solve Saitama's wolf pelt problem though. And he had no plan to help the woman gather some bear pelt all over Skyrim in some semblance of revenge.

Too much trouble.

After realizing they did not trade pelts in the tavern, Saitama left the pelts in a chest without the innkeeper noticing. Leaving things was not illegal, right? As long as it was not garbage? Saitama was not an expert in law, but figured it would not hurt anyone by dropping something valuable. The finders could sell those, and he was not about to go through the hassle to search for a general store.

He had better things to do.

* * *

 **High Hrothgar, the Throat of the World**

Arngeir conceded his own curiosity towards the feat of Dragonborn was erroneous. The Way of the Voice was the path Greybeards followed, and what other powers the Dragonborn might possessed should not be their concern.

However, the power of Thu'um must not be abused, and the wielder must be guided.

Undoubtedly, the Dragonborn was coming, answering to their summon, seeking their instructions.

And enlightenment shall be brought upon those who inquired.

* * *

Climbing the 7000 steps to a mountain monastery was not something Saitama would called _a better thing to do_. Nonetheless, it was what Saitama was doing at the moment.

The mountaintop monastery, High Hrothgar, was a sanctuary where the Greybeards dwelled. They were masters of Dragon Shout and had devoted their entire life honing the skill. Furthermore, the only path lead to High Hrothgar was the 7000 steps, a slander trail winding around the mountainside.

But Saitama did not know that much. All he knew was the road to mountaintop was dangerous at present, so no one could send supplies up to the elders who lived there.

It would be just wrong to let some old fellows starve to death.

Someone had to do it. That was the reason why Saitama continued on this boring quest of _sending food to lonely old men_.

Casually dispatching wolves and frost trolls along the way, Saitama wondered idly if he should try to persuade those old people to move to a more populated area. After all, it was not safe for old people to live secludedly. What if they slipped? Or got sick?

It did not take long with Saitama's speed to arrive at the gate of High Hrothgar.

Saitama hesitated. According to Klimmek, who gave this task, he should just put the supply bag into the large chest in front of the stone-built mansion.

But he already came this far. Should not it be more favorable if he carried the bag inside the building?

So he knocked.

No response.

Refusing to relinquish, Saitama gave the gate a gentle push. Seemingly unlocked, the door swung open with a muffled squeak.

* * *

"Hello… Is anybody home?" Saitama's voice echoed between the stonewalls of the antechamber, which are lit by faint candlelight and dim rays of setting sun.

"So… a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age." An elder Nord in hooded dark robe emerged from the corridor, ambling towards Saitama.

"Who? Me?" Saitama was confused, but his expression dull. "No, I am just the delivery guy."

"It would seem you are in denial of your power, Dragonborn." The old man continued. "Fearing the unknown is a natural trait, a wise one in this case. But fear not, for we shall guide you."

"I told you I am not this Dragonborn you are talking about." Saitama started to think coming in was a bad idea. "I'll just drop your supplies here, alright?"

"Yes, you are… Dragonborn. There was no mistaking the dragon blood runs deep in your vein." The elder insisted, unrelenting. "Now show us. Let us taste of your voice."

"I am NO- … Look, I'll just leave now." Frustrated, Saitama felt he could not communicate with this man, and began to depart. Who was this old guy anyway?

"You slain a dragon at Helgen."

With that, Saitama stopped mid-step.

"Are you stalking me?!"

"Our leader sense your consummation of the dragon soul." The Nord explained. "That alone proves you are a Dragonborn."

"Consummation… If you are talking about some glow from dead dragon flowing at me that day. I didn't feel sated at all." So there was no stalker at least. "And just who are you?"

"I see… " The elder trailed off, as if contemplating. "Let me introduce ourselves. We are the Greybeards, followers of the Way of the Voice. We are here to guide you in your pursuit."

That self-introduction did not ease confusion from Saitama, but added insult to injury.

The old man went on. "And my name is Arngeir. You can regard me as the spokesman of the Greybeards."

Resigned, Saitama settle for entertaining the old man a little longer. "What do you want?"

"First, let us hear your shout."

* * *

Peculiar.

Could a mortal with dragon soul but not the ability of Thu'um be Dragonborn? Such a thing never happened in the history of Skyrim, as far as Arngeir could tell. This Dragonborn, Saitama, was indeed an anomaly.

What was even more intriguing, the incident at Helgen was apparently the first time this Dragonborn absorbed a dragon soul, yet it was not the first time that he killed a dragon.

After several failed attempts to shout, which all ended up more or less as kooky yell instead of proper Thu'um, the _Dragonborn_ bade his farewell.

Arngeir noted that Saitama did not seem disappointed at all, only bored. Granted, he never once admit to be a Dragonborn. The man even claimed that he came here not for the calling of Greybeards nor the searching of his fate, but to bring the stockpile to _some old guys_.

Why someone, with both dragon blood bestowed from Akatosh and the knowledge of Word absorbed from deceased dragon, could not shout?

Then it dawned to Arngeir, the nature a Thu'um was the Will of the wielder manifested via Dragon Words into immense Magic Power. And to use the Shout for destruction, the user must will the destruction. Hence, many were lost in the Way of Voice because of the corruption of their Will.

Could it be that this man simply did not have the Will to use the Voice?

It was a theory that there might be no one could prove.

It also suggested the teaching of Greybeard would be of little use to such a man.

So Arngeir just silently watched as the man's profile disappeared into the darkness outside, into the howling storm.

Before long, their earlier exchange of words reverberated in his mind.

" _So why did you fight Alduin?" Arngeir asked. If this man never thought he was Dragonborn, what made him take on this fateful mission?_

" _Of course I did." Saitama replied, as if the answer was obvious. "Fighting evil is just what heroes do. And I am a hero of hobby."_

Arngeir lost his sleep that night.

* * *

Klimmek lost his sleep that night.

He should not have sent a defenseless bald man to his certain death. He was not sure why he gave the man this task in the first place. Carelessness, probably.

The man did not seem formidable at all, as if there were not a driblet of fighting spirit in him. Possibly just a desperate man looking for work.

In addition, the path uphill was not an easy one, steep and without railings, and became even worse due to the animal attacks lately.

Even most pilgrimages avoided to go up these days. And those who did go never returned.

By Talos, what had he done?

The only thing he could do for him was to check the path as far as he dared tomorrow morning and, hopefully, to search for the traveler's body and give him a proper burial. But with the storm raging on, he knew the chance of finding would be slim at best.

* * *

 **AN: That is why there are random pelts in inn's chest.**

 **I really Klimmek getting old was not the problem with 7000 steps. I mean with wolves and frost troll, the road is dangerous!**

 **I realize there will be quite some deviations in most skyrim quest and such. And I feel I might have to plan ahead for each chapter so the story will not be contradicted or hit a dead end. Also, the characterization of some characters are a bit hard for me to control, especially when writing dialogues. So I have to apologized that the update will probably not as frequent as the beginning.**


	6. §1: Someone Enters Cidhna Mine

**AN: Warning! One Punch Man characters are coming out!**

* * *

 **Apocrypha, The Realm of Hermaeus Mora**

How curious.

Hermaeus Mora observed with genuine interest as a bald man struggling to advance in the furious snowstorm.

A Dragonborn, yet possessing the power of far beyond.

A power that not even Hermaeus Mora himself, the Daedric Prince of knowledge and memory, recognized.

Moreover, the measure of such power remained undiscovered and this man's strength remained unknown.

Saitama, a soul he could not see through, a mind he could not perceived.

A destiny that was not sealed, a prophecy that was not foretold.

But soon enough, he would have the secret, along with the other ones he craved.

They shall meet each other when the fate called.

All in due time.

* * *

 **Somewhere in Skyrim**

Saitama regretted leaving High Hrothgar in the middle of a ferocious blizzard.

Not because he was afraid of the cold or the dark, those feelings faded long ago. And not because he was hinder by the gusty wind.

It was because he was lost.

And when the storm finally stopped, he had no idea where he was, rendered his map useless.

So he wandered aimlessly in the snow-covered ridges and valleys.

Until he ran into someone. A man in a black tight suit and wielding a katana.

To Saitama's annoyance, the man started to attack him without a word. And he had to break the man's katana so they could talk civilly.

The man claimed to be an assassin and was here for someone named Helvard.

Saitama had never heard that name, and did not think the man could actually be an assassin, not with that innocent smile.

However, the man seemed to be looking for a barring, which consisted of a lot of bouncing of the _assassin_ between the cliffs and a premature termination as Saitama accidentally hit the man in the groin.

That's gonna hurt… A lot.

Shaken with the immense pain, the man tottered away announcing he would postpone his other assassination contract until he defeated Saitama, as if they were some kind of archenemies.

 _What a strange man._ Saitama mused as he watched the man stumbling down the road. _What kind of name is Joints-o'-Pain Panic? And what is a Bark Brotherhood, a plant protection community?_

* * *

 **The Thalmor Embassy, West of Solitude**

Elenwen, the Altmer First Emissary and Ambassador of the Thalmor, was unsettled by the recent news.

After the Great War between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire, the White-Gold Concordat was signed. However, the banning of Talos worship in the treaty had been a tremendous affront in the eyes of the Nords, and a civil war was waged in Skyrim, home to the Nords, as a result.

The Civil Skyrim Civil War, or the Stormcloak Rebellion, between the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion.

Elenwen, as a seasoned politician and a potent sorcerer, was sent by the Aldmeri Dominion to oversee the event.

Initially, the plan of the Thalmors was to stand aside and watch, only step in and give a push when the fire of the conflict died down. In other words, they intended to encourage the collision, so the both sides would be weaken by this raging war, and Aldmeri Dominion could profit. No matter who lost in the end, the Aldmeri Dominion would always win.

Nonetheless, something unexpected happened.

First, the dragons returned to Skyrim, with a threat to devour the Nirn.

Then, there was a rumor about this dragon slayer, who often showed up when in a dragon attack, defeated it, and vanished without a trace. Some suspected he might be the legendary Dragonborn, so powerful that even dragons could be blasted into a shower of blood with a single mighty Shout.

Elenwen believed that theory was just confirmed by the calling of the Greybeards, when word " _DOVAHKIIN_ " echoed throughout the azure of all Skyrim.

Pride as she might be, Elenwen knew that their hatred of against Talos rooted not only out of despise – _how a mere man could ascend into godhood and be worshiped while Mer were the more supreme race?_ – but also fear, which most Altmers refused to admit.

Yet, as a pragmatist, Elenwen knew the implication of Talo truly being a god, for Talos was once - according to the Nords - Tiber Septim, the founder of the Septim Empire.

An Empire Aldmeri sought to destroy.

Moreover, by the legends, Tiber Septim was a Dragonborn.

Elenwen could not help but try to connect the dots between the war for the worship of Talos and the arising of a powerful Dragonborn.

* * *

 **Markarth, The Reach**

Markarth was city carved into the mountains, built in stone, upon the ruins of ancient Dwemers. Shielded by the cliffs by its side, some proclaimed that Markarth was the safest city in Skyrim.

The truth was, Markarth was just like its people.

Cold and hardened.

It took several days for Saitama to reach Markarth after his stray in the snowstorm. The first paved path he encountered after the storm had lead him to Falkreath, and it was at that time he figured he must have wandered very south, maybe near the south border of Skyrim.

Saitama had not stayed in Falkreath for more than a day owing to the uneventfulness of the village, and had hit the road heading further west.

And here he was, standing in front of the broad gate of Markarth city, ignored by the guard as some ordinary passerby.

Saitama entered the city nonchalantly, utterly unimpressed by the grand stature of the architectures, the picturesque waterfalls converging into streams, and the superlative craftsmanship of Understone Keep. However, he did notice a man drew a dagger and attempted to stab a woman.

So he intervened.

Suddenly speed up into a fast trot, Saitama abridged his distance with the man in the blink of an eye.

Not that anyone noticed. Probably because most of the people were minding their own business or else someone would have already shout warning at the woman.

"The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!" The attacker screamed as he grabbed the woman's shoulder, pulling her into a backstab, only to be stopped dead in an iron-grip.

The man struggled futilely to wrench his wrist free from Saitama's grasp, as the guard finally realized what happened then took over by arresting the man.

In the midst of the rattles of the citizen about the Forsworn attack, the woman who just avoided her death approached Saitama with relief.

"By the gods, that man nearly killed me. You saved my life." The woman spoke, gratefully. Reaching into her pouch, she pulled out a silver emerald necklace "Thank you. Here, I was going to bring this to my sister, but I think you should have it."

"I appreciate it. But I can't take it." Saitama replied. "It's too valuable and I didn't do this for money."

"Um…" The woman frowned as she considered what Saitama said before beaming into a sincere smile. "How about this. You are a traveler, right?"

"You can say that…"

"Then you must let me pay for your stay and your meals here." The woman said decisively. "That's the least I can do."

After some consideration, Saitama agreed. He was running of supplies now anyway. "Okay. Thanks, I guess."

"Then that's decided. I am also staying in the Silver-Blood Inn." The woman turned walking, waving her hand. "See you later."

As the woman strolled away, another man bumped into Saitama's side. The man's face was mostly covered by warpaint and was wearing farm clothes along with some pieces of hide armor.

And with an all-too-friendly tone, the man asked. "Are you all right? Did you see what happened?"

"Yeah." Saitama stared blandly at the new comer, confused. Did they know each other? "A guy yelled something about _'force worm'_ and tried to stab a woman. I stopped him, though."

"The Forsworn? Strange." The weird man spun as if about to leave. "Well, I hope the Eight give you more peace in the future, for what it's worth."

Then the man suddenly stuffed a piece of paper into Saitama's hand forcefully. "Oh. I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important."

"What?" Saitama was now slightly irked. "Hold on to your own trash!"

"Mine? No, that's yours." The man said with obvious fake innocence "Must have fallen out of your pocket."

With that being said, the man hurried away, leaving Saitama alone in the market place.

That was _not_ suspicious _at all_.

* * *

 _Meet me at the Shrine of Talos._

There was only one line on the note given by the stranger.

It did come to Saitama's mind to forget about the letter and just let the man wait. But then again he had nothing else to do in this city and the day was still young.

The problem was the note did not even specify _where_ the Shrine of Talos is.

And Saitama settled for checking the buildings one by one. He had time.

He skipped the first two house he encountered after entering the city, since he can tell they were a general good store and an inn respectively from the shop signs.

At the door of the third building, Saitama stopped and knocked.

No answer.

On a whim, Saitama gave the door a hard push, and it swing open, revealing a chamber filled with clutters.

The furnitures were organized, albeit covered in dust. However, the miscellaneous objects were scattered across the room, as if teared through by a cyclone.

The light was dim, threatening to slake. Unnatural mist seemed to flood the interior of the building completely, thick, almost tangible, making it hard to breathe.

Then there was this sound, rustling, whispering, nicking at the fringe of one's sanity, trying push fear into the deepest part of the heart.

Such atmosphere could brought chill down the spine of any brave soul.

Just not Saitama.

He looked around, oblivious to the grave malice simmering in the air, and found a corridor lead further inward.

Saitama followed the path without hesitation.

He needed to get to the bottom of it so he could make sure this was not a temple of Talos.

Finally, he heard something different from the hissing in the air, someone was talking.

Then he saw them - the altar in the end of the path and the man en-caged by it.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Hermaeus Mora made his debut, but don't expect him to do much at the moment.**

" **Kill Helvard" is a contract of Dark Brotherhood in the game, and Helvard is bald. Moreover, the man is in Falkreath, so I think he fit perfectly.**

 **The quest Forsworn Conspiracy ended up being the House of Horrors.**

 **And the "someone" that entered Cidhna Mine was the Forsworn attacker.**

 **More OPM characters will be coming later.**

 **Thanks for reading! Review or send PM if you had any question or suggestion or just feel like to.**


	7. §1: To Oblivion With It

**AN: Again, I hope I get the Elder Scrolls Lore right.**

 **And if there is something you think I should elaborate more about the settings/characters/background/anything or if you see something confusing, please do tell me.**

* * *

Genos lamented his current predicament.

He had been chasing ghost ever since the tragic that took away the lives of his family.

No, not only their lives, also their souls.

Four years ago, when Genos was only fifteen, a mad necromancer unleashed a mighty wave of black magic upon his village. The magic did not kill the villagers outright; instead, it took their souls and left their lifeless bodies to rot.

Genos was only survivor.

However, to this day, he still did not understand how he survived, where the mage went or what the mage had done with the souls.

The only thing he could do was seeking - seeking the culprit, seeking the answers, seeking justice, and seeking his revenge.

With the help of a Dwemer scholar, Kuseno, expert on Dwarven technology, his savior, and his fatherly figure, now Genos was searching the Tamriel from province to province.

As a Nord without Elven blood, Genos' magic power were not particularly strong. But with the Dwarven implant built by Kuseno, his ability was amplified. The amplifier resided in both of his arm with an outlook similar to some Dwarven armor, and boosted not only his magic affinity, but also his strength.

It made Genos one of the best Spellsword in Tamriel.

Being best made him proud.

And pride could easily make a young man reckless.

That was how he ended up in this cage.

* * *

Earlier that day on the street of Markarth, Genos met a Vigilant of Stendarr. The Vigilant intended to search an abandoned house for evidence of daedric activity, and asked for Genos' assistance as he pass by. Genos agreed without a pause because of his own revulsion towards Daedra. He had suspicion that the mad necromancer he was looking for was under the influence of a Daedric Prince.

He had not expected to meet a Daedric Prince this day.

In the hindsight, he should have learned more about the house and the Vigilant before entering the building. But he had not. He was reckless.

Upon entering, Genos knew instantly something was not right. While the chamber looked tranquil and almost ordinary - just like the interior of a regular house, yet there were thin fog drifted in the air, and the reverberation of their conversation came out somewhat wrong.

Genos followed carefully, keeping an eye on his surroundings, as the Vilgilant delved deeper into the building, stating _something was inside the house_.

When their path was finally blocked with a locked door, the Vilgilant paled, as if he just realized something.

"Stendarr's Mercy! This isn't an ordinary Daedra." The man exclaimed with undisguised fear, while starting to scramble back towards the entrance. "We have to get help."

Then Genos heard it.

" _ **Weak. He's weak. You're strong. Crush him."**_

The voice echoed not in the air, but in his head, demanding with an irresistible authority.

At the same time, the light darken, flickered with a threat to fade. The mist thicken, and there were suddenly whispers hissing from every direction. The clutters in the house, as if possessed, began to float, to bash, and to slam in a frenzy.

Genos chased after the Vigilant of Stendarr.

Only to find the front door, where they came in, was also sealed.

The voice continued to urge them to kill each other.

Genos stared with wide eyes as the ground beginning to shake, and watched with horror as the will of the Vigilant broken by the Daedric Lord.

The _devotee of Stendarr_ was the one who cast the first stone. Pushed to the wall, Genos killed his once-ally out of self-defense.

But exit did not unlocked, and the only way left was to explore farther into the house. After laying the body in a corner for later burial, Genos realized he had no choice but to advance _further down_.

 _As the voice now commanded._

Down the basement, an underpass was behind the shelves, leading deeper into the ground. At the end of the tunnel, there was a shrine, an altar, dark yet with a dim luminesce glow. Upon the shrine, a rusted mace flowed, a reward, as the voice promised.

Genos stalked closer towards the altar, enchanted, hardly conscious of what he was doing.

He only managed to snap out of it when the clamps of metal rose around him, trapping him into a cage, right in front of the shrine.

The voice resounded again, this time, sinister and mocking.

 _ **"Fool! Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you? What do you see from that little cage? Speak."**_

"Molag Bal… A Daedric Prince." Genos blanched. He had once wanted to obtain some answers regarding the mad necromancer from the Daedric Princes. However, now standing before the altar of Molag Bal, hardly able to suppress his tremble, Genos realized how naïve he was.

 _How insignificant mortals were, in the eyes of a Daedric Prince._

Swallowing back a bile in his throat, Genos took a calming breath. Focusing on his hatred instead of his fear, Genos hardened with newfound determination.

He would never accept a gift from a Daedric Prince.

"I don't want your reward." Genos bit out as he drew his blade, cutting at metal cage as hard as he could. The bars did not budge.

" _ **Try all you want. But your strength and magic are of no use here."**_

The voice taunted, amused.

Genos knew it was true. It seemed these were not made of ordinary metal, perhaps strengthened by the power of the Daedric Lord. If his slash did not even leave a mark on the rods, his magic would not be efficient either.

 _But maybe…_

Biting down hard, Genos put a hand on the glowing core in his chest. It was another creation of Kuseno with the help of Dwarven technology, serving as an extra reserve of magicka. And together with the amplifiers in his arms, an magic blast with his full endeavor could unleash unimaginable power. The only reason he had never done this was that it would also drain him, rendered him defenseless. Also, in a confined space like this, the blast would probably kill him.

Still, Genos would rather die than being a tool of the Daedra.

 _I am sorry… I disappoint you, Kuseno._

With that last thought, Genos raised both of his arms, channeling the magicka in his body and the core, feeling the flow of magic surging and intensifying.

 _For one final blow._

 _..._

"Is this the temple of Talos?"

Genos' concentration was interrupted as a man showed up in the hall with the weirdest question. Bewildered, Genos checked the man out with a critical eye, and only saw a regular unarmed civilian with a baldhead in farmer clothes.

 _What was the man doing here? Did he get lost?_

Before Genos could warn the man to run away from this godforsaken place, Genos became even more perplexed as the Daedra answered the newcomer.

" _ **This is my territory and here lies my altar. I am Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination. I can see there is great power in you, mortal."**_

The bald man did not seem surprised or startled at those words, but picked his ear in disinterest.

"So, wrong house." The man, ignoring completely the latter half of the speech from the Daedric Lord, proceeded to turn his attention towards Genos, and started approaching. "Are you stuck? Need any help?"

"Run! Get out of here! It's a Draedric Prince!" Genos was now frantic. He had already accepted his own doom. There was no need to drag an innocent man with him.

"Uh… I don't see any lock here." The stranger stopped right in front of the cage, putting a hand upon one of the bar, examining. "Mind if I break it?"

"No!" Genos blurted out, trying his best to neglect the Daedra's malevolent laugh at such a claim. There was no way this regular man could break the hold of a Daedric Lord. "You don't get it. You have to get out before it's too la-"

 _CLINK-_

* * *

 **Attribution's Share, the Realm of Boethiah**

Boethiah, the Daedric Prince of deceit and the rival of Molag Bal, laughed maniacally at the view of a bald man breaking his adversary's altar.

It was indeed a good idea to put the book "Boethiah's Calling" in that abandoned house, so Boethiah himself could oversee the event around the shrine of his rival.

 _What could be more satisfying than seeing a mortal spit in the face of one's opponent?_

And the bald man did not stop there.

After snapping two more bars of the altar, the man headed back towards exit, dragging the previous prey of Molag Bal with him.

Molag Bal demanded, bribed, intimidated, and shook the house with all his might, but everything was brushed off by the mortal man.

When the man eventually arrived at the door leading to the free air outside, the locked door did not stop him either.

The door was pulled out of its resting place forcefully, along with the frame, leaving a large empty hole in the side of the building.

Then these two men stepped through the opening, disappeared out of the surveillance of Boethiah.

Molag Bal must be enraged.

Boethiah was pleased.

And this mortal indeed held unparalleled strength inside.

Sooner or later, Boethiah would meet this man.

For all men shall answer to Boethiah's calling.

* * *

Saitama left Markarth immediately after exiting the strange house, in fear that someone would asked for compensation of the broken door. He hardly had any money on him at the moment.

And instead of a good rest in the inn with someone paying for his expense, all he got was a stalker.

A spellsword blond male Nord creepy stalker.

A stalker he had just saved.

 _Why did I help the guy in that abandoned house?_ Saitama sighed, somewhat regretting his past decision. _If only I could know the man was creepy beforehand._

* * *

After Saitama helped the man out of the cage and the house, the man introduced himself as Genos.

Then this Genos started to explain how he ended up there, _from the beginning._

Why would someone do that? They just met the first time!

Running out of his patience, Saitama interrupted the blond's long story and asked him to get to the point.

"Teach me the way to become strong like you." Was the man's shortened answer.

So Saitama revealed to him – his training menu:

 _100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and run 10 kilometers every day. Also, eat three meals a day, and no hearth fire in the winter._

However, Genos refused to believe him.

Even with Saitama _swearing_ those were all he did to grow this strong, Genos insisted there had to be something else - maybe something not even Saitama himself was aware.

So Genos asked Saitama to be his teacher. In this case, he could closely observe the secret of his strength.

Saitama said no.

He had already told him his method. Saitama did not need a disciple, and he had nothing to teach.

Genos followed him anyway.

That was how Saitama got a stalker.

* * *

To Saitama's dismay, Genos was no ordinary stalker.

The man was a skillful and persistent one.

At first, Saitama did not even notice the presence of Genos. Later it became apparent since the paths Saitama took were often untrodden, and sometimes he had to backtrack because of his disorientation. Moreover, Genos, with that uncommon Dwaven armor, was bound to draw attention.

Failing to talk down his stalker, Saitama tried to shake him off with his speed. It actually worked quite well, until he learned what Genos did after losing the track.

* * *

It was when Saitama arrived at Dragon Bridge town, after a great detour. The first thing he noticed was everyone was looking at him with critical eyes, and a mother hushed her child into the house as if startled. Saitama looked down and noted that he did remembered to change out of his hero outfit.

So what was the fuzz?

It became clear as he entered the only inn in the town, the Four Shields Tavern. He could hear a conversation taking place as he stepped the over doorsill.

" _Did you see a bald man passing by? A bald man, without beard, with eyes like a dead fish, possibly wearing farmer clothes. He looks regular, but is actually extremely powerful. With the ability to destroy a stonewall with pure muscle strength. I Need To Find Him!"_

So that was why everyone was looking at him strange.

Saitama could now see the innkeeper quavered slightly under the stern glare of Genos while shaking his head frantically. Being _interrogated_ by a man armed to the teeth could not be easy for an ordinary civilian.

Genos _did have a way_ of dealing with people. Just not really a good one.

After a few seconds that must felt like forever to the shop owner, Genos eased his gaze and stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "I believe you. Thank you for your cooperation."

And why the description Genos was giving about him sounded oddly like a criminal?

Wait, did Genos talked about him like this to everyone in the town?

Saitama pinched his nose – maybe _just let the man come along with him_ would not be such a bad idea. At least it beat this mess a thousand fold.

* * *

 **AN: Do they have the word "kilometer" in Skyrim? Well, I'm keeping it unless someone got a better alternative.**

 **You might have caught the name of a quest - Boethiah's Calling.**

 **And Genos appears! Along with his tragic background and weird attitude. Hopefully, he isn't too OOC. That goes for Saitama too.**

 **However, if they are. Please tell me.**


	8. §1: The Wolf Who Cries Men

**AN: In case you haven't noticed, the timeline and quest will change somewhat drastically from the vanilla game. (Only the events happened during the Elder Scrolls V, of course.)**

 **And you must remember almost no one recognize Saitama as Dragonborn or even a mighty warrior, so they won't be asking for help unless they see something impressive. (eg. Eltrys)**

 **I always find it weird that dragonborn could always participate EVERY MAJOR CRISIS in Skyrim from start to end, and everyone was willing to wait FOREVER for dargonnorn, so things will be different in this story.**

 **What is the fun of simply retelling the same story only with different characters?**

* * *

After that _unpleasant_ incident at Dragon Bridge, Saitama agreed it would be better to simply let Genos travel with him.

In all seriousness, Saitama would rather have a follower instead of a creepy stalker. Not that he had anything to hide.

On a side note, Genos was still being creepy. For example, why was he documenting every detail about the things Saitama did? And why did he insisted calling Saitama "sensei _"_ after Saitama refused to be addressed as "master" or "teacher"?

Later, Genos explained the word "sensei" means "teacher" in some foreign language Saitama had never heard of, related to the heritage of Genos' father.

 _So that was basically the same with just letting Genos call him teacher?_

In the end, Saitama resigned, Genos could call him whatever he wanted. As long as it was not something offensive, like baldy and so on.

Saitama never knew having a student would be such a pain in the neck.

* * *

 **Outside of Wolfskull Cave, west of Solitude**

Saitama and Genos had started their journey from Dragon Bridge for awhile.

Suddenly, Genos stopped dead right in front the entrance of a cave.

Saitama was curious, wondering whether Genos was one of those _dungeon-delving_ kind of guys.

Unlike normal adventures, Saitama did not patrol around Skyrim to gain fortune. He did it because he was a hero of hobby, and out of boredom. So he seldom paused to investigate a cave.

In fact, most regular people would not enter a cave without a _very_ good reason. Therefore, the caverns were generally occupied by wild animals, and sometimes bandits and cultists. Saitama had no reason to kill animals resting peacefully in their den. As of the latter two, usually they only became a problem _after_ they _exited_ the cave, and went for something illegal.

If Saitama saw a man in a cave, how could he tell if the man was a criminal? Even if the man attacked him, it could be the man thinking of Saitama as a trespasser.

It was not like, there would be the word "bandit" writing on the man's head.

Besides, caves were typically damp and dark, not a place Saitama would prefer to stay.

"I am sensing some strange magic activities in this cave." Genos spoke up, breaking Saitama's train of thoughts. "Something big was going on. I can feel the intensive flow of energy here."

"Ok." Saitama replied with ease. It could be something interesting. "So let's go check it out."

Then Genos got his first assignment from his teacher, and he took the job seriously. - To secure the surroundings when sensei switch his clothes into his hero suit in the bush.

Actually, what Saitama had meant was –

 _Stop recording at my every move, and get something better to do than watching me change!_

Not that Genos got it.

What Genos did was checking the environment cautiously. To his credit, Genos did find a bard wandering down the path towards the pair. However, the man slipped upon the ice-covered road and literally _knocked himself out_ before Genos could drive him away.

That was around the same time Saitama finished his changing.

And into the cavern they went.

* * *

 **Sleeping Giant Inn, Riverwood**

Delphine was troubled, as the one she was waiting did not come.

Many days had passed since the Greybeards summoned the Dragonborn, an event all Skyrim witnessed with their ears.

 _Too many days._

According to Delphine's original anticipation, the Greybeards would sent the Dragonborn to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller as a trial after they confirmed the person's identity. Afterwards, in the Nordic ruin, Ustengrav, the Dragonborn would found the note Delphine wrote in place of the Horn, since Delphine had retrieved the Horn long ago. Then the Dragonborn would have to show up at her doorstep as the note instructed if he wanted the Horn and some answers. As getting into contact with the Greybeards would be nigh impossible for most people.

However, the Dragonborn did not come.

There must be something wrong.

Was it because Greybeards did not send Dragonborn, the Dragonborn failed his quest, or the Dragonborn was caught up with something else? Delphine did not know. All she knew was, she had heard rumors about a powerful Dragonborn surfacing all over Skyrim, and as a last member of the Blades, it was her obligation to serve Dragonborn at this time of dragons rising.

Determinedly, Delphine set out on her journey in search of the Dragonborn.

* * *

 **Inside of Wolfskull Cave, west of Solitude**

Genos treaded carefully as he and his teacher descended into the depth of the cave. Now closer to the source of the energy inside, Genos recognized its nature – it was black magic. Obviously, nothing good could come out from black magic of this magnitude. In addition, there was a tingling feeling snagging at the back of his mind, as if something very big but extremely bad was about to happen. Then it dawned on Genos that they could not afford take it slow, for they must stop this evil before it got out of hands.

Genos charged forward, easily overtook his teacher, who was still strolling casually, and immediately ran into a group of necromancers and their skeleton thralls.

 _Incinerate._

Before the enemies could regroup and attack, a blast of high temperature flame intensified by his implant was discharged against his foes, altogether with his resentment towards necromancers. And Genos did not stop there, proceeding to cut down the ones lucky enough to survive the initial blow.

The horde was obliterated in seconds.

From behind him came the voice of Saitama, with a hint of perplexity. "Hey. What are you doing? Was this really necessary?"

"We must hurry, sensei." Genos replied without stopping his footsteps. "Some great evil is coming out."

* * *

 **Blue Palace, Solitude**

Falk Firebeard, the personal steward to the Jarl, was a busy man.

As the capital of Skyrim Province, the affairs in Solitude, political or not, were always innumerous. And things had gotten worse since the demise of High King Torygg, leaving his widow Elisif the Fair as his successor.

Falk Firebeard had taken over most responsibilities of the Jarl into ever since, for Elisif was an idealist yet inexperienced, like most young people, and was in deep mourning for her late husband.

Falk Firebeard knew that Elisif had not been ambition when she first married Torygg, but was now yearning for vengeance against Ulfric, the current leader of rebellion, after the trickery that led to the murder of King Torygg. Firebeard truly felt for this young woman, and was willing to strive to support the Jarl as a steward whenever he could.

As a result, Falk Firebeard had his hands full at the moment. There were the unsettling of the civil war, the grieving of the Queen, and the aftermath of murder of the late King. Incidentally, a traitor had just been executed for aiding Ulfric a few days ago.

And there were the returning of the dragons, which greatly affected everyone in Skyrim, and following that, the rise of the Dragonborn.

Falk could not spare resource to investigate a cave, simply because of the words of a bard, Varnius, saying that he saw some _unnatural magics_ coming out from the Wolfskull Cave. There was still so much else to be done.

* * *

 **Under the Wolfskull Cave, west of Solitude**

Venturing further down the cavern and into a site of ruins, Saitama could see a fort in the middle of the cavity. On top of one of the towers, a purple orb floated, glowing, and enclosed a woman's shape inside. The figure, adrift as well, was gleaming even brighter, almost white, and flows of magic coming from scattered necromancers converged in it.

Then he heard the chanting voices echoing in the hollow space, summoning Potema. It must be the name of the woman afloat.

"Potema… The Wolf Queen…" Genos muttered with a look of realization.

"Who is that?" Saitama did not recall hearing this name. It was a name, right?

"Potema. She was once a Queen of Solitude in Third Era." Genos replied gravely. "She started the War of the Red Diamond to claim Ruby Throne. And the War was ended only with her demise. She was one of the most dangerous necromancers in history of Tamriel, and one of the few figures that were indisputably evil."

"Huh…" Saitama did not catch some of the terminologies Genos just used, but he got the conclusion easily enough. "So there are some lesser necromancers trying to revive this great evil power necromancer, correct?"

"Yes, sensei." Genos answered. "And we have to stop them."

* * *

Genos had seen many strange things in his years of pursuit all over Tamriel.

For example, not long ago, there was a woman asking him to bring ten bear pelts to her from anywhere in Skyrim, because there were bears harassing her business, while _what she should ask_ was to take care of the bears in her neighborhood.

There were indeed some very eerie people around Skyrim, but no one was, in the view of Genos, as extraordinary as Saitama sensei.

Genos knew Saitama was strong - the man's strength was unrivaled even under the reigned of a Daedric Prince.

Displeasing a Daedric Lord was not a difficult task, and usually resulted in suffering to the said mortal. However, _infuriating_ one was a feat Genos had never heard of. And true anger only came from powerlessness. A Daedric Lord, powerless to a mortal man, how ridiculous, yet so undoubtful.

Could it be that there were something much more about his teacher - something that not even a Daedric Prince would perceive or affect?

Genos could not fathom the answer.

And now he could only stare in awe as the man did again something implausible.

He saw a flash a determination sparkled in Saitama's eyes, then his teacher bended his knee and took a leap. Instead of plunging down the cliff ahead that led into the foot of the fort, the jump carried Saitama upward and straight towards the cap of the tower where Potema's spirit currently drifted.

Genos snapped out his astonishment, and realized the only route he could take now was the path on his left, which he assumed would eventually winding up inside the fort. Then from there he could find a way to Potema and catch up with his teacher.

Genos set out without further hesitation.

The path was thankfully linear, but not without some pestering necromancers trying to hinder his advance.

Genos would have none of it.

Channeling his magicka into flames and electricity with one hand and wielding his blade in the other, Genos dashed forward as an unstoppable force of fury. He had to hasten, in hope that he could reach Saitama before the final battle ended. To summon a long-dead spirit as powerful as the Wolf Queen, perhaps the quality of the energy could be made up by the quantity – like the many second-class necromancers Genos just dispatched, but the Ritual Master must be more than capable. The Ritual Master was the one overseeing the whole process of conjuring, and the one binding the soul with blood at the end. And there was the fact that the ritual could now be completed in any moment.

Therefore, Genos could not help but worry for his teacher, who could be facing a Master Necromancer and an evil spirit all on his own.

To Genos' relief, he did arrived at the platform above the tower in record time.

To Genos' surprise, there was not any fight going down on the rooftop.

Saitama was _talking_ to the Ritual Master, trying to convince her to stop the summoning.

Genos showed up just in time to see their negotiation broke down, as the Ritual itself took a wrong turn – the Wolf Queen was about to break free from the necromancer's bound.

Genos became aware of what was happening a second too late, only to learn the horrifying truth - the conjuration was now completed, and Potema was now at her full strength but without the binding of the Ritual Master.

What happened next was beyond Genos' imagination.

Saitama turned his attention away from the now petrified Ritual Master at once, swerved, looking up towards the conjured phantom of Potema, and reared his fist.

The Wolf Queen's laugh resonated throughout the cave, and then stopped abruptly, as if noticing some potential danger. Her expression changed and the light of her body intensified, in order to defense, in order to fight, and in order to escape.

And there came the punch.

Saitama's fist cut through air in a swift motion, and sailed towards the half-corporeal-half-spiritual form of the Wolf Queen.

It seemed so simple… so ridiculous at the first glance.

The blow landed.

Then every fiber of reality seemed to shake with the impact. The plane of Oblivion, where Potema previously resided, quivered along with the earth of Nirn. The form of the Wolf Queen shattered into fragments as both her new body and her soul disintegrated, a threat no more.

The shockwave of the punch, still unweakened, reverberated in the underground cavity, bringing down rocks and debris as the whole cave beginning to collapse.

"Ops… " Saitama's voice was the only sound above the rumbling of the ground. "I think I punched a bit too hard."

* * *

 **AN: Incinerate. Yes, that is the reason why Genos must be a mage.**

 **The quest mentioned was The Man Who Cries Wolf.**

 **And did you notice that Genos appeared before Markarth?**


	9. §1: That was a Long Journey

**AN: I tried hard to put the things together in a logical way. Hopefully, everything makes sense in this chapter and everyone act natural.**

 **And there are some background and lore explanations in here too, so if something is not clear, or you can't understand my writings, please tell me.**

* * *

 **The** ** _FORMER_** **Thalmor Embassy, west of Solitude, east of** **the Wolfskull Cave**

Elenwen was standing before the rubbles that was once the Thalmor Embassy, still unsured of what had just happened.

One moment they were having a high-class party with the most influential figures around Skyrim, the next everyone was running for their lives as a violent earthquake hit and everything fell apart.

How did it happen?

At first, Elenwen thought it might be a dragon attack. However, according to the guards outside there were no dragon sightings around. The shake was so destructive that it crushed the foundation of the Embassy, and then the whole building was swallowed into the earth.

It was a miracle that no one died in this disaster. Elenwen heard that even the prisoners in the basement managed to escape in this chaos.

Still, this did not ease her mind.

There were simply too many questions hovered over this abnormal event. Was it a natural force? If not, was it the wrath of a god? Or maybe, it was the result of some powerful magic?

And more importantly, was it targeted at the Thalmors?

Elenwen shuddered at this thought.

If it was, what kind of enemy were they facing?

* * *

As soon as Saitama and Genos escaped the cave crumpled by Saitama's hit, Genos started to interrogate the Ritual Master, who the pair dragged along, for information about the Mad Necromancer. However, the woman did not know anything. In the end, they let the necromancer go after she promised to stop such crafts. To be honest, it would be hard for someone to start over with one's effort of a lifetime destroyed in a single blow.

A blow that also caused an earthquake that destroyed the Thalmor Embassy. Not that the group knew it.

The two moved on.

They rested for two days in the Solitude City, looking for _works_ , before starting to head east until they reached Winterhold.

In this journey, Genos tried all he could to understand how Saitama became this strong. Therefore, Genos documented the man's lifestyle _down to every detail_ and the values the man held.

Regarding the secret of his teacher's power, Genos still had no conclusion. Genos doubted saving money down to every last penny or insisting on regular diet even _in the middle of a storm_ could have something to do with it.

However, Genos truly admired the man's attitude.

The man claimed to be _a hero of hobby_.

Genos was still amazed at his teacher's strength. Especially those two times, when they tracked down a dragon attacking people, and Saitama just finished the fight with one punch, blasting the once ferocious creature into bits and pieces, literally.

Hence, Genos could not understand how no one else recognized how mighty his teacher was. Instead, many people looked at the man as if he was some kind of a lunatic, or a fraud.

Then again, Saitama did not seem to care, _at all_.

The man was not a hero for the money, for the fame, or for the gratitude. He helped people not because they asked him to, but because he wanted to.

Saitama became a hero not because he _had to_ , but because he _aspired to_.

At least, that was what Genos concluded.

That must also be the reason why his teacher did not take a straight path from town to town, and frequently strayed off to the trails before doubling back to the main road - to guarding the safety of the whole Skyrim.

No one got lost that often.

* * *

Saitama felt extremely embarrassed about getting lost this often.

The road signs of Skyrim were not particularly eye-catching and the directions of the paths were quite confusing. Luckily, it seemed that Genos did not notice it. After all, the uninvited student had only came to Skyrim not long ago.

In this trip together with Genos, one of the things different from traveling alone was they drew more attentions from the locals and people would asked them for help.

Well… they asked _Genos_ for help anyway.

Almost everyone they met assumed that Genos was the adventure and Saitama was a follower of some kind. And _why did everyone lose something in a dungeon_?

Not considering himself as a lost-and-found expert, Saitama turned down most of those requests. And Saitama also had to, on occasions, stop Genos from _incinerating_ those folks for "disrespecting sensei" and "wasting sensei's precious time".

Yeah… Genos was still being weird.

It really gave Saitama the creeps that Genos was constantly staring at him and writing notes on everything Saitama did - even when it was only something insignificant, like picking his nose. And sometimes in their conversations, the disciple would suddenly had this expression of _epiphany_ , as if Saitama just said something profound and enlightening. But Saitama had no idea what it was.

Maybe Saitama agreed to let Genos come along too easily…

At least Genos did save him some time in cooking, since there were indeed a perk being a mage when it came down to making a fire.

* * *

 **Winterhold City, Winterhold**

Faralda was the instructor of destruction magic in the College of Winterhold, and the guardian of the College Gate to ensure only the brightest and most talented mages would be admit.

In Faralda's opinion, the events happening in the College these days were more than worrisome.

It began with the excavation in the ruins of Saarthal. Tolfdir - an elder professor who was experienced in alteration magic - and his students found a massive floating orb in the dungeon. Curious, they brought the sphere back to the College, and positioned it in the Hall of the Elements. Most researchers in the school were fascinated by the nature of this mysterious orb, which they found out later to be the Eye of Magnus – a magical relic with immense power related to the god of magic, Magnus.

The real problem arose, as Ancano, the "advisor" of Arch-Mage, also seemed to be interested in the artifact.

Although claiming to be a Thalmor advisor, Ancano was known by everyone to be a Thalmor spy. And the mer was definitely up to something – something ominous.

Even though Faralda was an Altmer herself, as a member of the College of Winterhold, she could not care less about Thalmor's ideology of Altmer supremacy. What she cared was the welfare of the school, which was now threatened in the possibly coming storm.

It was not a good time for the enrollment of new students.

However, in this particular day, two young travelers arrived at Winterhold, and pulled a stop in front of the College's bridge, asking for entrance.

The duo was a strange combination, Faralda noted.

One of them, the blond, looked like a Nord. Although the man was the younger of the two, he seemed to be the more battle-hardened one, judging from his high-class Dwaven armor with light carving marks, his glowing Daedric sword, and his fierce unwavering eyes. Faralda had to confess, the Nord looked capable, and handsome too.

The other man, probably a Breton, looked rather unimpressive, especially when comparing with his companion. This man was bald, wearing civilian clothing, and with a bland expression on his face. Faralda also observed that this bald man did not have any weapon on him. So either he was a mage, or he was utterly defenseless. Faralda inclined to think it was the latter.

So why were these two came at the same time? Was it a coincidence? Do they know each other?

Cutting off forcefully the more questions rising in her head, Faralda inquired for their reasons for entering the College.

* * *

Apparently, _"I need the information the College can provide, so I can find a mad necromancer that murdered my family four years ago"_ was not a good enough reason to gain entrance to the College of Winterhold.

And Saitama's complete ignorance on magic did not help either.

Saitama accepted the rejection readily without complains, but he knew Genos would not give up easily from his personal experience.

Genos was nothing but persistent.

However, there was one thing that both of them agreed on – they needed a legit way to enter the College. Trespassing a private property without knowing where to go, and being chased by a group of most powerful and influential mages in the Skyrim was absolutely not something on their to-do list.

Later that day, Genos came up with something.

Genos made a _friend_ in the Frozen Hearth Inn - a man named Nelacar. The man was once a member of the College of Winterhold and was exiled for "bad research". Saitama could not help but feel the man was a little shady.

This _friendship_ of Genos and Nelacar started with their mutual hatred towards Daedra. After some story sharing between the two, Nelacar offered to show Genos how to get in the College in exchange for a favor – to retrieve something for him _from a dungeon_.

Nelacar explained that it was a soul gem from the Daedric Prince Azura. The soul gem, named Azura's Star, was stronger than the regular ones, and would not break upon the depletion of the soul inside. Malyn Varen, Nelacar's former instructor in the College of Winterhold, was convinced that he could achieve immortality through trapping his own soul in it. However, the gem could not trap humanoid souls and Malyn had to experiment with it. Then Malyn Varen was eventually driven crazy by the curse of Azura for trying to alter the gem. Malyn started to kill people for his research and had not stopped ever since, even after being banished from the College.

Malyn and the Azura's Star were currently in the Ilinalta's Deep, and Nelacar wished to put an end to it, stating he had been keeping this secret for too long and had only realized his own mistake from the conversation with Genos.

In the end, Saitama and Genos took the deal since letting a crazy sorcerer run loose was not really a heroic thing to do. Besides, Saitama did not really have something else to do.

Then, Saitama saw the location of the Ilinalta's Deep on the map, and almost snapped.

It was all the way across Skyrim.

Malyn surely did not do thing half-way about leaving the College of Winterhold.

* * *

 **The Frozen Hearth Inn, Winterhold**

It had been days since Nelacar sent Saitama and Genos on the quest of retrieving the Azura's Star. And during this period, Winterhold was not peaceful.

One of the days, the town was even overrun by a swarm of magic anomalies - some kind of floating energy orb – that attacked everyone on sight.

Nelacar suspected it was another experiment went wrong in the College of Winterhold, and stopped worrying as the event died down. He had seen worse thing in his days in the College.

What concerned Nelacar now was the two men setting out to fetch the soul gem, as they just turned up in the tavern.

"Stendarr's Mercy. You found it. Azura's Star." Nelacar exclaimed, shaking off the fear once enveloped him. He had feared that he had sent two courageous young men on a one-way trip. They must be as strong as they claimed. Then another idea came to his mind. An idea to get back at the Daedric Prince, Azura. "Maybe this is my chance to get things right. I can finish Malyn's work, the way we had meant to before his madness."

"So does it mean we are done?" The bald man, Saitama, asked in spiritless voice. "And are you sure what you are doing?"

"Yes. This will cut the Star off from Azura. Only black souls would be able to enter it once we finished." Nelacar was now excited. "It's the only way to truly end it. This wouldn't take long."

With that, Nelacar picked up the soul gem and proceeded to his room.

Saitama sighed as he watched the mer returned to his room, mumbling as he walked. It was quite pointless to interrupt him now as they had already spent days on retrieving the gem - days of boring, tedious travel and an extremely unchallenging fight.

The only plus side of the trip was that he was starting to get used to Genos being around.

Wait… Was getting used to Genos a good thing even?

Besides, Nelacar had not yet tell them how to get in the College of Winterhold.

Luckily, this time the mer stayed true to his words, and came to a conclusion promptly. He then explained to them that Malyn's soul was currently inside the gem, so he could not fixed it.

"I am starting to think you are wasting sensei's time." Genos interrupted, glaring. "Get to the point."

"It's not as simple as enchanting Malyn away. He's put up barriers. Souls are only allowed in, not out." Nelacar continued, undaunted under Genos' gaze. "If we were to… somehow… send a soul inside the Star. One that was ready to overpower Malyn from the inside…"

Saitama could now see Genos' palm glowing with crimson light.

It was _incinerate_ again…

Before damage could be done, pressing down his disciple's arm hard, Saitama took over the conversation. "Yes. Whatever. Just be quick."

"So you are as eager as I." Nelacar spoke as he readied a spell in hand, aiming at Saitama. "Okay. Stand very still. This might sting."

Then the spell was launched.

* * *

 **AN: The quest Diplomatic Immunity just got broken. And yes, the Wolfskull Cave was not very far from the Thalmor Embassy.**

 **The College of Winterhold quests started without Dragonborn and the Black Star quest got mixed up in it.**

 **Kind of a cliff-hangar here, but don't worry, I am already working on the next chapter.**


	10. §1: Absolute Power Corrupts

**AN: A shorter chapter.**

* * *

Nelacar did not expect things to go like this. But he guessed this was still good in terms of getting back at Azura.

He had realized the two young men were strong enough to defeat Malyn's group without a scratch, and with their help, his plan could certainly work. He planned to use a special kind of soul trap to send one of them into the Azura's Star without killing him. After the man had dealt with Malyn, Nelacar would pull him out.

Nelacar had initially thought the men would be more hesitant to take such a risk. Extracting a soul from the living body was dangerous enough, and there was the fight with Malyn that could disrupt one's soul. However, the men did not falter. And instead, they determinedly asked him to hurry. The bald man did anyway.

So Nelacar complied.

But the soul trap spell did not work.

After Nelacar cast the spell, the bald man still stood there, staring at him expressionlessly.

The man' should have collapsed as the soul leaving his body. Yet, he was still on his feet, and now with an impatient look.

Nelacar cast again.

Still nothing.

That was strange.

Then Nelacar noticed the Azura's Star in his hand started to disintegrate, just like regular soul gems did when they were spent.

Could it be…

Yes, that must be it.

Malyn's experiment had broken the Azura's Star.

* * *

 **On the Bridge to College of Winterhold**

Faralda knew they were all doomed.

The Arch-Mage and Mirabelle were dead after Ancano had gotten his hand on the Eye of Magnus. And the world was about to end because of Ancano's heedless ambition – the mer just refused to acknowledge the danger of the relic.

The College had hired adventurers and mercenaries to retrieve the staff of Magnus – allegedly the only thing that could avert such disaster. However, none of them returned.

Now it was all too late.

In the beginning, the magic barrier generated by the relic had appeared in a limited scale, enclosing only Ancano and the Eye of Magnus. Yet, even after everyone's attempt to impede it and the sacrifices made in the process, the barrier widened and swallowed the entire College. And the speed of its expansion was increasing as time went by.

The space of Tamriel would crack under the great strain from the relic, and it was only a matter of time before the whole Nirn demolished.

Faralda knew the impending catastrophe could only be averted if someone had found the staff of Magnus and brought it back here to breach the barrier and pacify the Eye.

Faralda also knew it would take a miracle for that to happen in time.

So she could only watched, along with her colleagues, as the end unfolded.

* * *

 **The Midden, under the College of Winterhold**

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" Saitama asked nonchalantly as he followed his self-proclaimed disciple.

"Yes, sensei." The blond spellsword replied with diligence. "According to the map Nelacar drew, we're almost out of the dungeon."

"This is a bad idea…"

The _way_ Nelacar showed them of getting into the College was not one Saitama would call legit. However, the mer did depict a map of the interior of the school and a path to sneak in under detection.

The route started with some low-grade rock climbing just below the cliffs where the College of Winterhold resided on top. Then they should gain entrance to a cave, which led to the Midden – the underground dungeon of the College. Finally, one of the exit of the Midden would take them to the courtyard.

Currently, Saitama and Genos had already spent hours navigating through the maze of this understructure with Genos leading the way.

 _Was Genos lost?_ Saitama wondered, and at once asked himself why hadn't he just grabbed Genos, scaled the cliffs and jumped on top of the roof of the stone-built college.

No… Now came to think of it. It would not be a good idea. The security of the College looked pretty tight, and they would probably be discovered instantly if they had taken such a blatant measure. For crying out loud, there was an _extremely strong barrier_ in the Midden – the _hidden_ Midden, and Saitama had to punch a human-sized hole in it so they could proceed. Luckily, no one in the College seemed to notice that, or else they would have to resort to their plan B – ran like hell before anyone caught them.

Trespassing was not really something Saitama would like to commit. But at least Genos was only going to search the library for possible information on the Mad Necromancer, so no one would lose anything in this act of crime. Right?

* * *

 **Hall of the Elements, College of Winterhold**

Ancano could feel it, the power – the immense power at his dispose.

The Eye of Magnus, he almost had it fully under control.

Ancano had started this scheme for the cause of the Dominions – to prove the supremacy of the Elven race. But now he knew that he had been wrong all along.

He saw it, the world, through the Eye of Magnus, and realized this had to be how a god feel. The mer, the men and the beast race mattered little, for they were merely a speck of dust from viewpoint of a much superior being – a being now Ancano became.

With this power, he could - and he would - reshape the world.

And he would crush anyone attempting to stop him.

Then Ancano heard the door creaked.

Someone had breached the barrier.

* * *

The College of Winterhold was empty. At least that was what Saitama thought before peeking into the Hall of the Elements, which would be just under the Arcanaeum - the library of the school and their destination.

Saitama and Genos had opened the gate of the hall slightly and peered into the crack.

There was an Altmer standing beside a giant floating orb occupying the center of the lobby. Vast magic energy, in the form of electric sparks, was channeling between the mer's raised hands and the sphere.

 _Someone was blocking their way. Was there an alternative route to the library?_

Just as the pair tried to close the door quietly and move on, the voice of the mer resounded as he discovered the intrusion.

"You have come for me, have you?"

 _THUD -_

Saitama and Genos quickly slammed the door shut and retreated to the courtyard.

They were detected. However, judging from his tone, Saitama was relieved that the mer might have mistaken them for someone else.

"So… what do we do now?" Saitama decided it was not yet the time for plan B, and they could still get to the Arcanaeum.

Genos checked the map from Nelacar intently, and eventually came to a conclusion. "If sensei can break a hole in the wall of the second floor, we can get in through it."

Then Genos added helpfully. "It was extreme unlikely someone would expect an intruder from the wall, and take security measure against wall breaking."

"Definitely not." Saitama was not going to commit vandalism in addition to trespassing. "Is there any other way?"

"There is door on top of the roof that can also lead to the library." Genos stated. "But with that height, I am not sure even sensei can make it."

Before Genos could come up with another horrible idea like wall smashing, Saitama made a split second decision and jumped, grabbing Genos with him. They landed on the top of the building without breaking a sweat.

"Done. So which door is it?" Saitama asked, ignoring the sudden admiration on his apprentice's face.

Genos recovered from the astonishment in seconds, having gotten used the moment like this in the weeks he traveled with Saitama, and pointed to a door ahead. "This door, sensei. Let's get in."

The door was not locked, as no one predicted the invader would come from this high up. And the teacher and the student got into the library without more turmoil.

"That's a quite a lot of books." Saitama commented as he looked around the Arcanaeum.

The Arcanaeum was also a grand hall, much like Hall of the Elements. The chamber was cylinder with columns on all sides that converging into arch in the ceiling. There were bookshelves lining up against the circling wall and books scattering on the terraces and desks.

However, Saitama was not impressed. What he did care was how long would it take for Genos to find what he wanted with this many books lying around.

"I'll start looking right away, sensei." Genos exclaimed. And with that, the Nord began his search.

Saitama was not really sure what Genos was looking for and did not consider himself being any good at research. So instead of checking through the tags on bookshelves like what Genos was doing, Saitama snagged a book randomly from the desk and looked at its title. He was already bored, especially after those times spent wandering in the dungeon.

 _Boethiah's Proving_

Saitama thought the title was a bit familiar. In particular, the name Boethiah, he felt he had seen it before. And there was a red, conspicuous holder in the tome marking a page as _extremely important_. Almost as if someone wanted the book to be seen.

Saitama weighed the book in his hands, pondering.

Yes, the book was the one.

It would make a perfect pillow.

Saitama fell asleep soundly on the floor with _Boethiah's Proving_ under his head.

And outside of the College, all members of the College were consuming by despair, fearing the inevitable fate.

* * *

 **AN: Yeah… It was Malyn's experiment breaking the Azura's Star, not some bald guy, or was it?**

 **And it was actually possible to get in the College without joining in through the Midden using the mountain scaling technique in game. Go check out some youtube video if you want.**

 **In case the timeline was not clear, the order of things happened would be: Ancano used the Eye of Magnus and barrier appeared - barrier expanded a little and covered a part of Midden - Saitama punched through a hole in it - barrier expanded more as the two wandered in the Midden - the barrier covered the entire College**


	11. §1: From Powerful to Helpless

**AN: I am struggling with the constant POV changes. TBH, I don't really want to do them this often. But the oblivious nature of Saitama makes telling the story clearly in his perspective much harder.**

* * *

Saitama was awaken by Genos with rough shaking, and almost accidentally punched the man in the face.

"…sei. Sensei. Are you awake?" Genos said in a hushed tone. "Something is going on."

"Did you find what you need?" Saitama asked, yawning.

"No. But something wrong is happening in the College." Genos replied, and continued to elaborate. "I was reading this book _The Exodus_ when I heard something from the outside. So I decided to check it out. I found there were some small floating magic white orbs that attacks people on sight. Those things are quite annoying. They moved fast and it is hard to hit them with a slow moving spell. And I had to battle several of them before I can look around peacefully. After I killed all the orbs around, I went to check all other buildings of the College except the one we encountered earlier with an Altmer in it. However, all those buildings were empty. Therefore, I thought it would be necessary to… "

"Stop!" Saitama was running out of patience. And with his mind still fuzzy from the nap, half of that long speech went out of the window. "Get to the point!"

"Something is wrong in the room with the Altmer in it."

"Fine. Let's go give it a look."

The two, following the instruction of the map, proceeded down a couple flights of stairs and passed the door between the Arcanaeum and the Hall of Elements. And they could see the mer was still in the room, in the same stance the first time they saw him.

"Finally gather up your courage to stop me?" The mer sneered, mocking. The magic still flowed between him and the Eye of the Magnus. "You think I don't know what you are up to? You think I can't destroy you?"

"Hold on there." Saitama injected, clueless of what was really going on. "Can you halt your magic for a while? It's too loud. I can't hear you clearly."

"That stupid trick is not going to work." The mage, apparently thinking Saitama was pulling an all-too-obvious deceit, scoffed. "The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do anything about it?"

"You are saying you're gonna destroy the world." Saitama asked suspiciously. This person was obviously crazy. Saitama could clearly see the insanity in his eyes. "With what? That floating ball of yours?"

However, Genos seemed to take the mage more seriously and was ready to _incinerate_ the mer.

"The 'floating ball' is the Eye of Magnus." The mer all but shouted, as if it was something important. "And I am beyond your pathetic attempts at magic. You cannot touch me."

"You said Magnus?" Genos' eyes widened at that name.

Still, Saitama did not recognized anything of significance in this conversation. He only concluded that the mer became insane over the obsession of the ball. As far as Saitama knew, the mage had been casting spark spell over a floating orb for _hours_.

Maybe they should knock him out and send him to a healer?

So Saitama acted, hand-chopping the mer hard on the neck.

The mer passed out with a low humph.

Then another Altmer dressing in yellow robe and hoodie appeared in the Hall of Element out of nowhere.

"Things had settled in a way we did not expect." The newly come mer spoke with authority.

"And who the are you?" Saitama asked, before pointing at the fainted mage. "Are you a friend of his?"

"No. We are the Psijic Order." The robed mer replied. "We are here for the Eye of the Magnus."

"You are here for this ball?"

"Yes. The Eye has grown unstable. It cannot remain here, or else it may destroy the College and this world."

"Uh-huh…" Saitama was not sure whether to believe this person. At least this mer looked more capable and _sane_. "So… you want me to smash it?"

"The Eye of Magnus cannot be destroyed easily, even for someone as powerful as you." The mer answered, acknowledging to some degree the strength Saitama possessed.

However, what the mer said next, in a long term, changed the entire Nirn.

He said…

"You can try, if you truly want."

* * *

 **Thalmor Headquarters, Solitude**

Thalmor Headquarters had been once deserted and replaced by the Thalmor Embassy. But now it was functioning again because of the destruction of its replacement.

Elenwen sighed as another piece of unwanted news came in.

According to the letter, some Thalmor patrols found Ancano wandering around the northeast shore of Skyrim. The mer had lost all his sanity when they found him.

Ancano had been a valuable asset of the Dominion, especially after the discovering of the Eye of Magnus. He had been sending message about the artifact from then on. And, in his later report, Ancano claimed that he might have found the method of controlling the Eye. It would become a great asset of the Thalmor indeed.

However, things did not happened as he planned. A letter came to Elenwen's desk a few days ago, saying Ancano had failed in his final act, presumably stopped by the Psijic Order, and Ancano and the Eye of Magnus were both missing ever since.

The Eye of Magnus was most likely taken away by the Psijic Order in the name of protection. Ancano's whereabouts, however, was anyone's guess.

Then this news arrived.

Elenwen believed Ancano's madness was predictable after his attempt, since from what Elenwen had gathered, the mer was extremely close to take full control of the Eye. And if a mortal saw through the eye of a god, he could not possibly returned to the secular body without harm. The mind would inevitably collapsed.

However, piecing together from the crazy talks Ancano had been giving, Elenwen had a feeling that there was more to it. She believed that someone else other than the Psijic Order was also involved in the failure of Ancano.

She just did not know who it was... yet.

* * *

Saitama was traveling alone again. Not that he had anything to complain.

A couple of days ago, when Saitama and Genos encountered the Psijic Order in the College of Winterhold, Saitama had assume the robed mer _wanted_ him to break the floating orb. However, the expression the mer showed after the destruction seemed to say otherwise.

Then again, what was done was done. The hooded mer did not give further protest for this incident, and disappeared into the thin air with a single line of info.

 _The staffs of the College would return soon._

This line reminded Saitama of the fact that he and Genos were trespassing. Did it mean the mer who just left was also an intruder like them?

One way or another, Saitama decided it would be a good time to flight from the school, through the same way they came in, of course.

Nevertheless, the problem persisted. Genos still had not found the information he wanted in the Arcanaeum for the lack of time in their _visit_.

Before long, another chance into the school present itself when the College of Winterhold started its enrollment again. The official news was a major crisis had been averted peacefully, and the College was now ready to recruit more students.

And this time, with some tips about the entry interview from Nelacar, Genos was successfully enrolled as a new student of the College of Winterhold. Saitama, on the other hand, was not. Even though a Breton, the man possessed no affinity nor passion in the craft of magic, and was unavoidably rejected by the school. The College of Winterhold certainly would not let some random man get in just because one of its student invite him. And Saitama figured he himself would not be good at doing the research Genos wanted anyway.

That was why the two parted their ways.

But not before Genos declared the only goal he had in the College was to seek more information on the Mad Necromacer, and he would soon return to follow Saitama since he only interested in _absolute destructive strength_. Saitama had to demand Genos not to ask around for Saitama after the departure from the College, and instead, go meet Saitama in a small camp near the northwest of Whiterun. Saitama did not wish the event in Dragon Bridge to repeat itself.

* * *

This afternoon, after the unremarkable trip setting-off in Winterhold, Saitama arrived at the Windhelm City.

Windhelm, once a capital of Skyrim, stood mighty and tall over the Yorgrim River bank. Much like Markarth, Windhelm was a city built in stone. However, in places where Markarth was covered with bronze metal, Winterhelm was covered by silver ice. Although part of population were consisted of Dark Elves from Morrowind, the majority of Windhelm's people were the natives of Skyrim – the Nords. Together with its great distance from the Empire appointed capital Solitude, Windhelm was the perfect home for the Stormcloak Rebellion. And Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the Rebellion, currently resided in the Palace of the Kings as the Jarl of Windhelm.

Nonetheless, Saitama did not know much about the Civil War and had no previous contact with either the Empire or the Stormcloaks. He just wandered on the stone paved streets in this majestic Windhelm fort, looking for something to do and paying no heed of the suppressing walls on either side.

He did ran into something, literally. A young boy, who was at the age around ten, was sprinting down the road, carrying a bag of food and mumbling something about _going home quickly and wait_. The child bumped into Saitama hard, but Saitama did not even budged.

"Easy there, kid." Saitama grabbed the arm of the boy so the minor would not fall either.

The child muttered some word akin to thanks and hurried away, entering a house not too far away.

Saitama was about to resume his aimless stroll when he noticed something on the ground – a small pouch of gold. The kid must have dropped it.

Saitama stared at the pack a few more seconds before picking it up and heading towards the door the child just passed through. He knocked the door several times without receiving any reply. _No one seemed to be answering their doors these days._

 _Or locking their doors._ Saitama noted as the door handle turned with a slight press and the door swung open. The kid had probably had forgotten to lock it in his haste.

Then Saitama smelled it, a stink of rotten flesh assailing his nostrils.

 _Had someone died here?_

Saitama rushed inside, ascending the stairs just behind the door in a whirlwind pace. In a side room, Saitama saw the body. Actually, pieces of body, consisting of scattered bones placed as a set of skeleton, chunks of human meat and a human heart. What was even stranger was a circle of candles lying around the corpse and the boy he just saw was kneeling besides, rambling.

 _Seriously, this boy wanted to be a necromancer too?_ Saitama had been seeing too many necromancers lately.

"Hey, kid." Saitama interrupted the chanting of child, who had not yet noticed Saitama in his absorption. "Being a necromancer is not a good career choice."

The boy, startled slightly by Saitama's abrupt voice, turned his head, and inspected Saitama's farmer outfit. The child asked in an uncertain tone. "Are you… sent by the Dark Brotherhood?"

"That name again." Saitama said, confused still. "What exactly is a _Bark Brotherhood_?"

* * *

 **AN:Thanks for reading and the reviews!  
**

 **There is actually a small bandit camp to the northwest of Whiterun. It is unmarked on the map.**

 **And I do remember about the Bark Brotherhood. *Wink***


	12. §1: Child's Play

**AN: The update rate after my next update, which will be tomorrow, will most likely slow down, since some real life things is catching up. But I'll do my best not to be too slow, since I still have plan for this story ahead.**

* * *

 **Palace of the Kings, Windhelm City**

The word had passed to the Palace that a young boy was performing the Black Sacrament, a ritual to contract the Dark Brotherhood for assassination, in his family's house inside the city.

However, this news was not one of Ulfric Stormcloak's concerns.

The Dark Brotherhood, although still being a notorious group of assassins, was not what it used to be. The organization was now no more than a band of mercenary after their downfall a decade ago, and had lost all its former glory.

What did concern Ulfric was the status of the Civil War.

Contrary to many's beliefs, Ulfric did not become the leader of the Rebellion because he was a capable warrior. Yes, he was indeed a strong warrior – a veteran - with the Shout as his disposal. But more importantly, Ulfric was a good strategist and, at some level, a politician.

No one could reach and hold a position like this without some political maneuvering.

In truth, Ulfric did not truly believe the rallying cry – _Skyrim belongs to the Nord_. It was but a means to unite the Rebellion. And in terms, it would reunite the Skyrim, expelling the Thalmors and their ban of Talos worshiping.

That was what Ulfric truly believed.

Therefore, another thing that drew Ulfric's attention these days was the rumors about the Dragonborn – a hero told in Nordic legends. And Ulfric had to wonder, what role would this Dragonborn play in the chessboard of the war.

* * *

 **Aretino Residence, Windhelm City**

"So… you're saying you are performing a ritual to hire an assassin…" Saitama asked suspiciously. "How did you even get those body parts?"

The child Saitama had seen kneeling beside a corpse was named Aventus Aretino. And the house was – well, had been – his home before the demise of his mother. The boy was then sent to an orphanage in Riften because of the lack of relatives. However, the headmistress of the orphanage was, according to Aventus, a cruel and evil woman, so he ran away back to Windhelm, alone. Now, with the intention of helping other kids in Riften and his distain towards the woman, Aventus was trying to contract the Dark Brotherhood to kill the headmistress, Grelod _the Kind_.

"I stole them from the Hall of the Dead." The child replied, gesturing towards the remains on the ground.

"Stealing is not really a good thing, kid." Saitama commented.

"I know! But I need them so I can summon the Dark Brotherhood." The boy protested.

"And killing someone is not a good thing either." Saitama continued.

"But Grelod is terrible. To all of us in the orphanage. She's a monster." Aventus was desperate. "Why haven't they come? The Dark Brotherhood… How long must I pray? "

"Listen, kid." Saitama interrupted the child's lamenting. "Maybe I can help."

"You'll kill her for me?" Aventus was hopeful now, albeit a little skeptical, probably not believing in the capability of Saitama.

"No." Saitama replied determinedly. "But I'll find a way to stop the old woman."

Aventus was still doubtful, yet he had already waited for so long and his patience was running thin. "If you said so… "

"I'll be heading to Riften." Saitama said. "Do you miss the other children in Riften?"

"Yes… but… " Aventus' voice trailed off with hesitation.

"Wanna come along with?" Saitama offered, expression bright.

"Why are you trying to help me?" Aventus was truly confused.

"Because I'm a hero of hobby."

* * *

Next day morning, Saitama set out from Windhelm together with his new companion, Aventus Aretino.

The journey was definitely not a short one, and Saitama had, in several occasions, pondered how the kid made it to Windhelm alone. A miracle, maybe. The major roads of Skyrim were relatively safe comparing to the branching small tracks. Relative was the keyword. Therefore, the travelers would at least bring some weapons with them in case of animal attacks. Unless they were mages, of course. Or if they were Saitama.

Although there were no dragon encounter in this trip, from time to time, some foolish wolves, bears or even bandits would try to assault the pair, and then got dispatched by Saitama with effortless punch.

As a result, the boy's opinion on Saitama also had changed from the initial distrust to the later adoration.

Aventus was now convinced that Saitama could help him.

Saitama, on the other hand, had no idea how he should help the kid. He guessed he would have to figure it out after arriving at Riften.

Soon enough, Saitama and Aventus reached the entrance of Riften – a city of wooden houses, water channels and underground sewers. Under the façade of a warm and peaceful city of southern Skyrim, however, Riften was a city of thieves and corruptions. A guard at the gate had tried to shake the duo off but given up halfway, deeming the man and the child too poor. And the two managed to enter the city without much hassle.

"This way!" Aventus shouted as he navigated through the streets of Riften, leading Saitama towards the Honorhall Orphanage.

The child pulled a stop right in front of the door, as fear surging back in the form of past memory. He was again not so sure about returning here since he was still scared of the old hag. He could now hear the woman's voice ringing through the thin door.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?" Grelod was apparently talking to the children. The woman was indeed a horrible person – a sadist even. This conversation taking place just confirmed what Aventus told Saitama on the road.

Saitama did not pause, and entered the house in stride, giving Aventus a slight rub on the head as he passed.

The two pushed in the orphanage without being noticed by Grelod, who was still too engrossed in her _speech_ to the children. Instead, a young Imperial woman greeted them.

"We are not… Is that you, Aventus?" The young woman had recognized Aventus and became more confused by the man beside the boy. "And you are?"

"Saitama." said the bald man.

"He can help us, Constance." Aventus, having found his courage somehow, told the woman. "He is a hero."

"A hero?" Constance examined Saitama with a critical eye, yet observed nothing impressive. All she saw was a bored unarmed civilian. "I am not sure who you are… But sorry… I don't think you can help here. Grelod the Kind is the one running this place… "

"Why aren't you the one in charge?" Saitama cut in, inquiring. "The kid said the old woman don't even like children."

"Grelod runs this orphanage because she's old, and set in her ways, and doesn't know any other life." Constance replied regretfully. "These children need love, and comfort. I try..."

"That reason hardly makes any sense. So she is doing something she hates because she is bored?" Saitama was puzzled. "She should really get a life. I'll talk to her."

"No… wait…" Constance injected, but Saitama was already moving forward.

It was not like Grelod would hit him with a cane or something. Even if she would, the attack from such a fragile old woman could barely hurt anyone, let alone Saitama.

"Excuse me." Saitama halted his step in front of Grelod, and inquired. "You are Grelod right?"

"What do you want? You have no business being in here!" Grelod spoke defensively.

"I am here to give some advices. I mean it would be better for everyone if you just retire, including yourself." Saitama suggested sincerely. "Why spend the last days of your life doing something you hate?"

"Are you threatening me? Why how dare you! I will not be intimidated in my own orphanage!" Grelod took it wrong, thinking Saitama was hinting he would kill her if she did not comply.

"Threat?" Saitama was confused again, as he was simply addressing her old age. So why did the woman become frantic suddenly? "No. I'm just saying you are old and…"

"Get out! You worthless piece of gutter trash! Get out this instant!" Grelod apparently did not care for Saitama's reply, and she went for the door. "I am calling the guard."

Well, that escalated quickly, Saitama thought. And the old woman's rude attitude did not help the situation either. Saitama was seriously considering to knock Grelod senseless before figuring out what to do next.

Grelod was knocked out in an instance.

Just not by Saitama.

When the old woman was trying to pull the door open, someone slammed the door in from outside… hard. The plate of wood was practically torn from its hinges, and it smashed into the old woman's head before anyone could acknowledge what was going on.

Then a man jumped in from the now-empty doorframe with a wicked smile almost too wide for his face.

"Saitama. Finally we meet again." The man exclaimed. "Today… I am going to kill you."

* * *

 **Solitude City, Haafingar Hold**

To fulfill her responsibility as a Blade, Delphine had been searching for the Dragonborn ever since she left Riverwood.

However, she had not found anything solid. All she could get from town to town was only rumors that no one was able to confirm. Many of the rumors was about a man with unimaginable power to shatter any opponent, including dragon, in a split second. And most people believed the man was the Dragonborn, and his shout was so strong that no monster could withstand.

Nevertheless, no one had observed the man in action. There were only some witnesses saying they had seen dragons fleeing or the pieces of dragon remains after a loud bang. Nothing conclusive. In fact, it was not even verified that this person was male, female, human, elf or beastfolk.

From what she was told, Delphine believed that this person must be the Dragonborn – the legendary dragon slayer - she was looking for. Yet, because of the ideological conflict between the Blades and the Greybeards, Delphine did not go to High Hrothgar for intelligence, and she currently had no idea of what the Dragonborn looked like.

That was before she got some interesting information in Solitude.

Delphine had a contact, Malborn, in the Thalmor Embassy. Malborn was a Bosmer with his whole family wiped out by the Thalmors during a purge, and later he took a job inside the Thalmor Embassy, seeking chances to exact he revenge. However, things did not go as he planned, since the Embassy collapsed before he could try anything.

It had been weeks from the incident, and Delphine had only learned now from the Bosmer that the destruction of the Embassy was not as simple as it looked. First of all, the place the Embassy located was not known for having earthquakes. Secondly, the earthquake came fast and started with a violent jerk, almost as if it the earth was hit by some unknown force. Last but not least, Malborn saw some suspicious man skittering down the road when he escape the building, and he was fairly sure the man he saw was not a guest or an employee of the Embassy.

Delphine could not help but speculate that the man Malborn had spotted was perhaps the mysterious Dragonborn. And with Malborn's description on the man's appearance, Delphine finally got her first breakthrough in a long time.

Delphine silently vowed to herself that she _would_ find the Dragonborn, no matter where the man was.

* * *

 **AN: It was weird to me that Constance did not do anything about Grelod and obeyed her every order. I mean it could not be out of fear of the old woman's influence, since from what I saw in game, no one important cared for Grelod. So Constance can simply help the children by not listening to her!? But whatever, maybe she got used to following orders because of something happened in her past. That is the only reason I can think of.**

 **And I think some of you can guess the identity of the new-comer in the orphanage. More about him will be revealed in the next chapter.**


	13. §1: If Something Can Go Wrong

**AN: The next chapter is short, and I will post it immediately.  
**

* * *

 **Honorhall Orphanage, Riften**

Aventus Aretino could only stare with wide eyes as the event unfolded in an unanticipated way.

One moment, Saitama was still talking to the old hag, trying to convince her to leave the orphanage without resorting to violence, and Aventus was confident that Saitama would find a means to get rid of her. The next, things went sideways and chaos ensued.

A strange man in tight suit broke the door in with a loud crash, and stroke the old witch unconscious in the process. The man grinned in the most manic way Aventus had ever seen, and started to addressing Saitama as his rival.

The man claimed to have an eerie name – Speed-o'-Sound Sonic, and that he was an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood. However, the man did not mention anything about the Black Sacrament conducted by Aventus, and announced he was here to take Saitama's life because Saitama was able to see through his attacks.

Everyone in the orphanage was either too astonished or too confused to react to the unexpected _guest_.

Everyone _except_ Saitama.

Aventus heard Saitama inquired the odd man in an annoyed tone, "You'll need to pay for that broken door."

"Only if you can defeat me." With that sentence, the assassin charged towards Saitama.

Aventus was again shocked by the man's speed. All he could see was a blur as the strange man slashed his katana against Saitama repeatedly.

That was the time when panic rose, as the children broke free from their initial petrification and realized there was a fight going on.

However, the havoc did not last long. After avoiding the first few strikes of the assassin, Saitama learned that the man was not going to stop, and decided it would be a good idea to end the fight as soon as possible, before any kid got hurt. And he was not going to let this guy break everything in an _orphanage_. It was a freaking ORPHANAGE! What was wrong with this guy?

In a movement _too fast to perceive_ , Saitama smashed the man's head hard against the floor, and the assassin was out cold immediately, lying right next to Grelod.

What a mess…

* * *

 **Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, Falkreath Hold**

As one of the core members of the Dark Brotherhood, Nazir was the one in charge of the deployment of minor jobs.

Currently, Nazir was having a severe headache. The arrival of an overly talkative jester along with a coffin was already bad enough. And here came the news from the Riften.

A serial of event had led to the arrest of Speed-o'-Sound Sonic.

Nazir had no doubt the man would be able to escape before long. Nazir admitted that Sonic was one of the best, if not the best, in the Dark Brotherhood in terms of skill and dedication. The man had single handedly accomplished several contracts of extreme difficulty. In addition, Sonic had no personal preference on jobs, and was willing to do whatever it took to finish any kind of assignment.

All these points should have made him the perfect assassin, and who the Dark Brotherhood truly need.

However, the man had a critical flaw – he was too proud.

Sonic could not stand being bested by someone else, especially in terms of his speed. And he also had problem following the details of an order, as he only finished assassinations in the ways he preferred.

Nazir supposed this was what made the man so elite in the first place, and did not think it would become a major problem since Sonic was indeed quick and would not be easily defeated. People called this man _Speed-o'-Sound Sonic_ instead of his real name for a reason. And Nazir could make sure the man not taking any sensitive mission, so the man's insubordination would not become an issue.

Nazir was wrong.

A few weeks ago, Sonic came back exasperated, and the simple contract he had been on was left unaccomplished. Nazir's tried to investigate what exactly had happened but with no avail. Nazir only knew that Sonic was beaten by someone somehow, and Sonic would refuse to take any new contract until he won the rematch.

Nazir, for the first time, realized how unstable the man was. Sonic had almost disappeared from the Sanctuary completely, only coming back to look around once a while. According to him, he spent most of the days training in the woods for his opponent.

Then a report came from Windhelm, saying a little boy was performing Black Sacrament, and was later led away by a bald man in farm clothes with a promise to help. Since most of the Windhelm City had heard the boy was contracting the Brotherhood, Nazir was convinced that they must not let someone outside take the credit that belonged to them. When Nazir was considering which initiate he should send for this petty assignment, Sonic, having overheard this information, rushed in like a whirlwind and demanded for this quest. Nazir, while suspicious, thought nothing could go wrong with such a simple task of killing an old lady. And even if the mission was not completed, the aftermath would not be major since they had other ways to make sure the contract would be attributed to the Dark Brotherhood. So Nazir allowed Sonic to take the contract.

Nazir could not be more wrong.

The assassination was a complete joke. Sonic did not kill the old woman, only knocked her out. And even that was by accident.

Instead, Sonic went for the bald man, who probably pissed him off somehow, while revealing to a group of children his own title and his affiliation with the Dark Brotherhood. Then Sonic passed out all by himself on the floor right beside his target, and got arrested for assault by the guards.

The target was still alive at that point and was sent to a healer for concussion and broken ribs. The woman did survive, but only to trip over herself and die later when she tried to get up stubbornly in her dizziness.

Could it even be counted as an assassination?

Nazir was more inclined to believe it was just karma.

* * *

 **The Bee and Barb Inn, Riften**

The word of Grelod's death reached Saitama when he was sitting at the bar, having a drink.

So the old woman did die anyway. However, Saitama did not feel much about the news, since he was never someone to mull over unchangeable things.

What was important was that the children in the orphanage were now safe in the hands of Constance. Saitama did not think he did much to help this matter, since basically the evil woman died all by herself. However, the kid, Aventus, still thanked Saitama, stating he wanted to be a hero like Saitama when he grew up, so he could also help lots of children.

Well… Saitama did improve the safety of Riften by smacking senseless the guy breaking the orphanage door.

Talking about the safety of Riften… Saitama heard there were some serious thief problem in the city. Not that he had encountered one, probably because even the thieves knew he was poor.

Definitely because they knew he was poor. Even the innkeeper was giving Saitama this look now - the "if you were not going to order something else other than that cup of tea, I would throw you out" look.

Saitama checked his pouch and decided it would be best to call it a day. He finished his drinks in a large gulp, stood up from the stool, and headed outside, ignoring a drunken man who tried to invite him into a drinking contest. Saitama had once had an eating contest with Genos, in which Saitama lost miserably and ended up awfully stuffed. He was not letting the history repeat itself.

Outside the tavern, Saitama could immediately see a man was holding some sort of auction on one side of the market place, and everyone on the streets seem to gather around there. However, Saitama could not careless, as he had neither interest nor money for some fancy items. Instead, he walked to the other side of the market – the now-empty side.

That was the time he noticed something. Well… to be more specific, someone. A man was crouching behind one of the merchant stall, doing something.

* * *

Brynjolf was an important member of the Thieves Guild – an organization consisting of thieves all over Skyrim and based at Riften. Brynjolf was an important member also, as he was the one in charge of most of the new members.

Brynjolf was currently testing the capability of an applicant of the Guild. If the candidate had passed this assessment, he would officially become a part of the group. And the test was an easy one – to frame a nosy merchant in the Riften market.

The plan was simple. Brynjolf would draw the attention of everyone in the market to one flank. In the meantime, the applicant would take this opportunity to steal a ring from a stand behind the crowd. Then the applicant would secretly put the stolen jewelry inside the nosy merchant's pocket. Finally, a corrupted guard would come by and arrested the framed merchant as the planted ring was found.

The thing was going well so far. People around the bazaar had gathered before Brynjolf as expected. And the new man was also in position to steal the ring. Now Brynjolf just had to wait for the other to pick the lock of the strongbox and empty the content.

Then Brynjolf saw a bald man, ignoring the commotion in the market, headed to the applicant.

This could not be good…

* * *

Saitama originally thought the man hunching behind the stall was tying his shoelace. But he later became suspicious since the man took too long.

Therefore, Saitama guessed it would not hurt to check it out.

Saitama approached the fishy man from behind, and could now see the man was meddling with something inside the stand. Was he stealing something?

Just when Saitama was about to interrupt the man, a scream echoed through the air.

"Vampires!"

Saitama looked around the surroundings and located the vampires around the city gate shortly. Then he decided he would take care of the more dangerous threat first, and leave the petty thievery for later.

* * *

Brynjolf was not sure what was really going on now.

He heard someone shouted about a vampire attack, and the bald man turned away from the guild candidate and ran towards the gate.

Brynjolf alleviated marginally before realizing everyone in the bazaar became agitated. Soon the people were running at every direction. Some were running to safety, some to protect their belongings, and some to join the fight against vampire.

This looked bad…

Hopefully, although unlikely, no one in this turmoil would notice the crime.

Brynjolf could only watch quietly and wish the applicant the best of luck. This task had evolved from a test of skill to a test of luck.

And the luck was on their side, the man seemed to finish stealing the ring without being witnessed.

Brynjolf saw the man standing up slightly from his crouched position, giving Brynjolf an "the job was done" hand sign, and starting to walk away.

And Brynjolf let out a sigh of relief.

Then a man in a tight suit appeared suddenly in the brink of Brynjolf's sight, dashing on the street in lightening speed and wreaking havoc everywhere he passed, as he was trying to escape the guards chasing after him. Merchant stalls were smashed aside, bystanders were pushed to the ground, and the applicant were knocked off his feet.

This was definitely bad.

The fleeing man vanished on the other side of the street in a flash, leaving the broken items and confused people behind.

At least the ring was still in the candidate's pocket and the thievery went undiscovered. And…

Hold on… Why was the candidate still sprawling next to the stall? Was the man unconscious?

This was extremely bad.

"Who stole my jewelry?" An Argonion exclaimed. "And who is this man lying here?"

Damn…

* * *

 **AN:The quests are Innocence Lost and A Chance Arrangement. Another Daedric Prince sneaked into the picture, if you look closely and are familiar with Skyrim.  
**

 **And yes, Saitama was too fast to perceive.**

 **Sonic is causing troubles. And I feel sorry for Dark Brotherhood and Thieves Guild…**

 **Oh no, wait, I don't.**


	14. §1: Square One

**AN: This chapter is short and I figure I'll update it with the previous one.**

* * *

When Saitama arrived at the gate, the guards were already fighting with the vampires, and _winning_. So instead of joining in the battle, Saitama decided to check around for any hiding accomplice. He found none.

Saitama only returned to the gate in time to see the last vampire went down, and also heard the some guard saying there had just been a prison break with the prisoner already disappeared.

Getting back to the market place again, Saitama showed up in time to see a guard arrested the suspicious man earlier with the allegation of theft.

Saitama really started to think he did not have much to do in this city, at least not at the moment. And he left Riften that day.

* * *

Brynjolf felt nothing went correctly these days for the Thieves Guild.

Their most important client, Maven Black-briar, had been breathing down their neck ever since she gave them the assignments on eliminating her competitions.

Maven Black-Briar was the matriarch of the Black-Briar family – the most powerful family in Riften. In a sense, Riften was in Maven's pocket, and she could do whatever she wanted in the city. Other than her political influence, Maven also had intimate relationship with both the _Thieves Guild_ and the _Dark Brotherhood_ , which made her even more dangerous.

However, the tasks from Maven were not finished and the opponents of the Black-Briar still stood.

One of the assignment was simply too difficult. They were supposed to _deliver a message_ to this Goldenglow Estate, threating them to resume cooperation with the Black-Briar. However, that place was filled with mercenary, and even though the Guild had sent several members there, the messengers either came back critically wounded or were never seen again.

The other task was much easier. All they needed to do was to undermine a meadery by sabotaging a special tasting event, and find out who was behind the meadery's operation. But this job went wrong too, as a stranger, claiming he was for justice, appeared in the meadery and caught the sent thieve red-handed.

Then the simple job of framing a merchant in the Riften market had also failed. And it was later found this failure was caused by an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood.

Actually, it seemed nothing went correctly these days for the Dark Brotherhood either.

From what Brynjolf had gathered, the assassin broke the arms of Sibbi Black-Briar, who was in the jail at that time, before his departure from the prison. Sibbi Black-Briar was Maven's son.

Brynjolf could not tell if Maven was more exasperated at the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood at the moment.

* * *

Saitama thought it was time to head back home as he had already circled around the Skyrim and stopped at all the major cities.

On his way home, just like most of the journey he had taken, Saitama had to dispose of the attackers he encountered. And he also punched a couple of dragons when he heard of their hideouts.

In addition, he had encountered some weird guys who looked just like bandits. However, they claimed to be the worshippers of Boethiah, and said that Boethiah was calling Saitama to meet her on the mount overlooking Windhelm.

After staring at these people blandly for a full minute, Saitama concluded he had never see these men before. "You got the wrong guy. I don't even know who Boethiah is."

Then the men attacked him, because of… the religious discrimination?

No, probably because they were indeed bandits.

So Saitama punched them out too.

Finally, Saitama was at the vicinity of Whiterun and hence around his camp.

At this point, Saitama could not help ruminated about the patrol journey he was about to complete.

This was not his first patrol around Skyrim. And by comparing this one with his previous travels, Saitama realized although he had been fighting evils ever since he had become a hero of hobby, the bad things had showed no sign of decreasing.

He had no impact on the society.

Saitama felt no emotions, no excitement and no challenge because of his overwhelming strength.

And now he was returning back to the bandit camp, where he lived alone.

Nothing had changed.

…

"Sensei. You are back."

"Genos? Why are you in my camp?" Saitama asked, agitated.

"I followed what you said after finishing my search in the College library."

"Oh…" Saitama honestly forgot they had this conversation. "Yeah… right."

"And I also cleaned up your place and moved my things in."

At that, Saitama looked around the camp and saw a large bag that was wider and taller than a man's height.

How did Genos even get it here?

...

So… it seemed something did change.

Saitama was just not sure it had changed for the better.

 **THE END?**

* * *

 **AN: Important (kind of): Please check the next chapter for more author notes.**


	15. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AN:**

 **No, it is not the end.**

 **However, this is the end of the first part of the story.**

 **As you can see, things are set in motion in this part, and I have no intention to leave them hanging.**

 **I plan something big for the story in the future. (If you think what I did in the first part is not big enough.) Basically, almost every quest in Skyrim will end differently.**

 **To be honest, I did not think that much when I initially started this fanfic. But later, I went from "the plot is going nowhere" to "the plot might lead to some great changes". So hopefully, I will be able to pull off these great changes correctly.**

 **Regarding the update rate later, I cannot make much promise here. It will have to depend on how the story goes and how many other real life things on my list. So it can be sometimes fast and sometimes slow. But I have a good feeling that I will manage to finish this fic without major hiatus.**

 **Finally, I think there will be _at least_ two or three more parts before I consider the story complete. And I have no idea how long they will be, depending on how I am going to write them. I have to say this first part is not particularly long (or you can say quite short) for a fanfiction, probably because of the constant time skip I pulled. (I feel that if I went into the details of the everything, I'll never manage to finish the story. Or sometimes it was because I feel lazy.)**

 **Therefore, I have some questions for you all.**

 **First, since this is actually my first story, how do you think of the pace of it? Do you think it is too fast and lack of details? You wouldn't think it is too slow, right?**

 **Second, this part of the story is only over twenty thousand words and less than thirty. So do you think it will be better to put the later parts after the same story or start a new title on the site? And if you can tell me why do you think that, I'll be even more grateful.**

 **Third, do you think the characters in my writing are believable and in character? If not, please do tell me which and why.**

 **Last but not least, if you have any idea for further development of the story, be it about characters or plots, please also tell me. I will take all of them into consideration. And even if I don't put them in my final story, they will still provide me inspiration and help the fic, since my currently fleshed-out plan about the future lacks details.**

 **Oh… and do you mind me killing off some important/essential/somewhat innocent characters in the Skyrim game? Since that is the only way now I can think of to get to a major plot I have in mind. And no it is not children.**

 **I hope my story telling skill is not too bad, and thank you for all your support!**

 **Tell me what do you think if you're willing.**

 **2017/09/14 Edit: If you have a question about the story, you can also shoot ahead. If it's something I neglected in the past, I'll go back to revise the story. And if it is some other issue, I shall reply to you through PM, especially when there might be minor spoiler to the future chapters.(I still won't leak too much in the PMs. Don't worry.)**


	16. §2: Deal with It

**AN: The questions in the previous AN still stands. But if you want to talk about some other things, it is ok too.**

 **Here starts the part two of the story.**

* * *

 _This is my report on Saitama sensei to this date._

 _I have been living with sensei in the bandit camp for a month. However, sensei's strength is still a mystery. I am unable to identify the true source of such power, and I cannot understand the extent of it._

 _All I have seen was some phenomena, which includes but not limits to the times sensei punched dragons into a blood rain, broke the hold of Daedric Prince and took a Giant's club in the head without flinching._

 _From these events, I can conclude sensei is not just extremely strong physically, but also nearly invincible to all attacks. It is possible that there are some supernatural reason behind sensei's ability since I am convinced that sensei is immune of any spell or Daedric influence. Possibly even Devine intervention will not work on sensei. However, that was just my conjecture and will need further confirmation._

 _I also admire sensei's personality, as he never falters when those foolish peasants refuse to recognize his true greatness. On a side note, sensei does not like me to threaten the slanderers with burning them alive. He thinks it is too extreme and will cause many unwanted troubles. So I need to find a better way to defend sensei's honor._

 _Back to the reason behind sensei's strength. I have asked around in the College of Winterhold, and the only possible answer I got was it is something directly from Anu and Padomay. Nevertheless, this theory is useless to me as I cannot prove or disprove it, let alone use it._

 _Sensei did tell me that it is possible that his strength came from his own strong will of wanting to be a hero. That is something I need to try..._

* * *

"Genos, are you writing note again?" An expressionless Saitama interrupted Genos' focus.

"Yes, sensei."

"The sale will be starting soon. You're coming or not?"

"I'm ready to go, sensei."

Immediately, Genos got up from the ground and hastily trailed after Saitama, who was already leaving their camp.

The camp located at the northwest of Whiterun, lying closely to the City. Saitama lived here ever since the bandits once occupied this camp was _convinced_ by Saitama to get some real jobs.

It did not take long for Saitama and Genos to reach the city gate and gained entrance. Upon accessing the Whiterun, what greeted the pair were the clanging of iron from a woman forging a steel sword, the jovial laugher of children running on the streets, and the distant clamoring from the market vendors.

Before dashing straight to the bazaar, Saitama caught a glimpse of a Redguard dressing in fone clothes scurrying away as he saw the duo. _It was Nazeem_ , Saitama noted absentmindedly, _the man with the infamous quote: "_ _Do you get to the Cloud District very often? Oh, what am I saying - of course you don't._ _"_

Saitama had usually ignored the man's comment, as he did not even know what a cloud district was. Genos, however, had taken that sentence as a form of insult towards his teacher and rewarded Nazeem with a broken arm. The penalty Genos had gotten from the assault incident was a mere forty septims fine – the same price of five bowls of Apple Cabbage Stew.

Saitama wondered if it was because the Stew was too expensive or because the guards hated Nazeem also. Probably the latter, since even the man's own wife could not stand him.

Saitama and Genos arrived at the market and started their shopping for supply as the sale was going on. The _sales_ of Skyrim usually started at evening when the fresh food venders lowered the price so they could get rid of the remaining goods before the day ended. And Saitama preferred to take these deals in order to cut down his expenses.

This day was yet a regular day except for the fact the duo encountered some people as they were leaving the city.

Saitama saw a man and a woman entered the city from a long distance. It took Saitama about half a minute to recall where he had seen them.

The man on the left was named… H… something… Hanar? The woman… Saitama was not sure he had gotten her name before. He only remembered that she, like Hanar, was from the Helgen.

* * *

Olfsa and _Holgar_ were sitting next to a table in the Bannered Mare Inn, having dinner with Saitama and Genos while talking cheerily. Saitama only agreed to have the meal since Holgar said it was on him. The most content of their conversation had been centered around the rebuilding of Helgen – the difficulty, the development and the connection re-establishment with other cities.

"I was wondering… if you could lend us a hand in the repairing, Saitama. Since some rubbles are quite heavy and a man with your strength could be a great help. We'll pay you good." Holgar questioned before speaking in a dramatic tone, excited. "Even if you don't want to help, you should still come by and we'll hold a feast in honor of you, our savior! We will even write a song for you like the one for the Dragonborn…"

With that said, Holgar raised his jug, toasting to Saitama, who was still staring blankly.

Actually, everyone except Holgar was sitting in silent awkwardness as Holgar expressed his unquenchable excitement.

"I think you are having a little too much." Olfsa interjected, seizing Holgar's flagon in midway, and threw him a stern look. "This is the _tenth_ time you toast tonight."

"What? No, I am not drunk." Holgar protested loudly with one hand gesturing wildly and the other hand trying to wriggle the wine free from Olfsa's grip. "I'm just…"

"Yes, you are." The woman kept her hold firm, berating. "And now you are making a scene."

The scene was indeed peculiar – a small and skinny female wrestling with a tall and strong male, who was almost twice of her size. And it was, just like Olfsa said, drawing quite a bit attention from the patrons and the attendants in the tavern.

However, it did not draw the attention of Saitama, who had zoned out for quite some time, or Genos, who was taking note since who knew when. Genos was, of course, continuing to summarize his discoveries regarding Saitama in the report. Saitama was, on the other hand, wondering when they could go home, as the meal was already finished a while ago and now they were just sitting here listening to the pair from Helgen talking. He started to regret coming here – this was boring.

The discord of Holgar and Olfsa lasted until Olfsa decided it was time to call it a day, dragging the half-drunk Holgar back to his rented room. Before leaving, though, the woman dropped an offer that Saitama actually took into consideration. "Holgar is drunk, but the deal of rebuilding is true. And we will have some empty houses too. So if you get tired of the camp of yours, you are welcome to join us in Helgen. No charge for the house too. It's a token of our gratitude."

Free house. That got Saitama thinking.

He did not really mind living in a bandit camp, except for the times being mistaken as… uh well… bandit. That had not been a big problem in the past, since the passerby usually deemed Saitama unthreatening, concluding that he could not be a raider.

Nonetheless, things changed after Genos moved in. The disciple was always armed and watchful, glaring harshly at any travelers near the encampment. Moreover, as if the menacing stance was not enough, Genos would sometimes _verbally warn_ the pedestrians not to disturb his teacher doing nothing.

Saitama doubted that made _any_ sense. Instead, he considered Genos the major disturbance.

Saitama could still remember vividly the time a merchant dumped all the cargos and money in his camp and running away screaming _"don't kill him"_. He did not take the load of course, but he did take the idea of moving into somewhere more private.

The only problem was Saitama did not have the fond of buying a residence in Whiterun, or any other city or village, as a matter of fact. And building a house by himself did not seem to be a good plan either – Saitama was not an architect by all means.

So here came Saitama's best chance so far, and he inclined to take it.

Saitama was deep in thought while leaving the tavern. The invitation of a familiar drunk Breton to have of challenge in drinking was neglected once again, just like the time in Riften.

* * *

" _Have you heard of the rumor of the Dragonborn?"_

" _Yes. But I thought it is no longer a rumor? They said they have confirmation on it."_

" _Really? You are not talking about the Greybeard's calling a couple of months ago, are you? Because if that was…"_

" _No. Not that incident. I'm saying they already have some description of what the Dragonborn looks like. It's still a little vague, but… Lean closer, I'll tell you…"_

Delphine sat at a table in the corner of the Bannered Mare Inn – the largest tavern in Whiterun City, eavesdropping in silence as the two men occupying the dining table next to hers exchanged their information on the Dragonborn. One of the men had the looks of a traveler, judging from his attire and the cautious glance the man casted whenever a new comer stepped in the inn. The other was without a doubt a guard of the city, since he was still in his uniform, although the helmet was already taken off.

Currently, the traveler had lowered his voice into a whisper and was revealing the intelligence to the guard, as if the speaker himself could not authenticate the story. Delphine had to elevate all her concentration to grasp what the man was saying.

However, her focus was broken when a commotion kicked off on the other side of the tavern. Delphine gave a careless glimpse towards there, seeing four people sitting around a table – two men rested quietly, the other man was wrestling his jug from a woman half of his size. Delphine gave it no further attention and drew herself back at the conversation about the Dragonborn.

She was getting desperate. Her pursuit of the Dragonborn was oddly like a wild goose chase, and for several times, Delphine had thought she caught the man, only to realize it was the wrong person.

What Delphine had now was the ambiguous portrayal on the appearance of the Dragonborn, the sporadic possible sightings, and the speculation of when the dragon-attack-rate started to drop.

Delphine believed that the presences of dragons became rarer at about two months ago, which was around the time when the Greybeards summoned the Dragonborn. She suspected the meeting between them contributed to the wane of the dragons.

If Delphine had known who Alduin was and that the World Eater was defeated also about two months ago, she might have come to a different conclusion.

But that was not the case, and Delphine could only keep wandering in the wrong line of thought, in the hope that she would eventually come out the right way.

Delphine had also become aware of that the rumor of Dragonborn had grown into one of the most popular topics to the Skyrim people at their leisure times. This was not necessarily a good thing, as the false information and made up stories also circulated around, and sometimes it was hard to tell whether a statement was true.

And there was the hearsay of the Dragonborn's deeds before the Greybeard's calling. Delphine deemed this possible since no one became a Dragonborn overnight – one was _born_ as a Dragonborn, as the name declared.

In the end, Delphine was disappointed when the two men near her did not offer any new insight on the man she was chasing – nothing she did not know already.

The traveler and the guard later averted their subject from the Dragonborn to other matters Delphine could not care less.

" _So vampire hunters… huh…"_

" _I think it's called Dawnguard. Didn't you notice the constant vampire attacks lately?"_

" _And I assume that's the reason they are recruiting everywhere. I guess maybe…"_

Delphine left her seat as the conversation faded into background.

* * *

 **AN: This one doesn't know what a hanar is. Oh… wrong game.**

 **Delphine just missed the _Dragonborn_.**


	17. §2: Out of Boredom

**AN: I originally wanted to release this update yesterday, but did not have the time to finish editing the format. So yeah, here it is.**

 **Oh, I also made a stupid cover for the fic.**

* * *

Genos was always amazed at how truly great his teacher was. How noble it was that his mentor decided to travel to another city so he could aid clearing the ruins for some civilians. A man with such immense power yet was willing to waste his valuable time on such insignificant task – Genos was so inspired by this charitable trait and was currently taking another full page of note to record the moral of it.

Saitama tried his best to ignore the strange expressions and odd behaviors of his student.

As it turned out, the favor Helgen residents asked was quite easy, at least in Saitama's opinion. The help they need, per se, was not to move the scattered small clutter in Helgen, but rather to break the giant debris from the remains of the stone fort.

And Saitama managed to finish this task, which could take months for regular people to complete, in the matter of a few punches.

After these massive rubbles were shattered, the locals could finally start to clean them up and put the chunks to use in building other structures.

Sten, the now official leader of the Helgen group, had been pleasantly surprised at how quick Saitama pull this feat, and had moved on to introduce the presently under construction houses to Saitama and Genos.

"The house being built here will be the largest wooden structure in Helgen." Sten, standing in front of a construction site, asserted proudly with a smile on his face. "The basement is almost finished, which will be completed with a full set of smithing facilities."

Saitama fixated on the place where Sten gestured, calm as always with his expression betrayed nothing and stance relaxed. Next to Saitama, Genos stood straight as ever and showed no emotion either, holding a notebook in his hands and occasionally scrawling down something on it.

Sten, however, was not discouraged by their unimpressedness and continued the monologue confidently. "Above the ground, there will be a two story main hall spanning the most of the site. We will be adding an alchemy lab, an arcane enchanter, a fireplace, bookshelves, beds, and any other furniture you name. Aside from this part, three wings will be attached to the different sides of the main hall. We'll be setting up these wings according to your desire – kitchen, library, greenhouse, trophy room or whatever you choose. You can consider all these as a gift of our gratitude. We take our debts seriously. So… what do you say? How do you want the house build?"

Saitama stayed quiet for a few more seconds, before replying to the eager inquisitor. "That sounds troublesome. Most of those things are useless to me. And the house is too big. It will take forever to clean the place."

"Don't worry about cleaning." Sten was still talking in a selling tone. "Hiring a personal steward will take care of all the troubles in your house."

"Personal steward… Does that mean there will be another guy living in my place?" Saitama asked, frowning a little as he comprehended Sten was suggesting him to accept another obtruder in his home.

"Yes, and…"

Genos interrupted Sten's answer. "No. Sensei already have enough problems dealing with one disciple in his place. He does not need more disturbance."

Saitama shifted his gaze towards Genos, incredulous. "You do realize you are talking about yourself, right."

"Yes, I'm simply stating the truth, sensei." Genos answered without delay, seriousness on his face.

"…" Saitama sighed internally, before turning his attention back to Sten. "I don't think a house this big suits me, actually…"

Sten quickly interjected. "No problem. Then let me recommend some other good places to you."

* * *

In the end, to Sten's disappointment, Saitama settled for a shack near the north gate of the town. The shack was already completed and was currently served as a storage area for the people in town.

When Saitama pointed towards that cabin and asked how about that place, Sten had refused to let their _hero_ live in such a shoddy place.

However, Saitama declared that he had no intention to hustle over the maintenance of a large house so he would look good to others, especially since he sometimes left his place for a long time. And Saitama did not need the smithing, enchanting or alchemy equipment either, because he did not know and did not want to learn how to use those things anyway.

Finally, Sten begrudgingly agreed to Saitama's unusual choice, but insisting on clearing up and furnishing the cabin before Saitama and, incidentally, Genos moved in. Saitama got the feeling that this might take a while.

Just as the deal about Saitama's new residence resolved, a Nord male, whose name Saitama could not recall, emerged from the west and jogged towards Sten.

"Sten! The road to Falkreath is blocked by a group of bandits." The man panted slightly, coming to a stop before the three. "I was already halfway there. Then I got attacked by those raiders. Fortunately, I am fast enough to escape without a scratch."

"So the purchase order was not delivered." Sten cut right to the point.

"No, it's not. And I'm fine by the way. Thanks for your concern."

"No need to be sarcastic, Lokir. I thought you said you escaped without a scratch."

"Fine. But I'm not risking my life for some wood log business."

Sten pondered in silence. The order Lokir carried was imperative to the reconstruction of Helgen, for it would establish a contract of long-term trade with Falkreath on the much-needed lumber. And if the letter could not be conveyed in time, the whole engineering would be suspended. Hence, they must send someone brave, capable and strong to forward the purchase, or at least escort Lokir to Falkreath… Then Sten realized how foolish he was not to think of the apparent candidate right before him.

"Saitama, I have another favor to ask." Sten turned his gaze towards the bald man, speaking in the most sincere voice he could contrive. "It is very important for all of us. And there will be compensation for your service."

"Does it have something to do with the guy just arrived?"

"Indeed. We need someone to accompany Lokir to Falkreath, fending off any possible attackers on the road." Sten inquired. "It will be a cinch for the likes of you."

Saitama glanced briefly at the not-yet-ready shack before replied with a bland smile. "Okay, I'll do it. I'm bored anyway."

* * *

Saitama was still bored.

The events during the trip to Falkreath were not even mildly challenging in the view of Saitama. And the bandits that had scared Lokir out of his wit scattered at the first sight of Genos' demonstration in magic. Granted, before any of the raiders could speak, the blond had burnt one of watch towers into ashes with a spell more powerful than necessary, announcing loudly they should get lost and should not bother his teacher.

Saitama felt he had hardly done anything in this journey.

And now that Lokir had arrived at the village, Saitama and Genos decided this was a time for dinner and settled at a small clearing adjacent to the east side of Falkreath, leaving Lokir alone to finish the delivery job.

The pair set up a fire to grill the fresh wolf meat that basically turned up at their doorstep in the previous journey, while gorging on the rations they brought.

In this serene moment, the moderate town of Falkreath bathed in the crimson evening light, as some sporadic inhabitants paraded towards their home after a day of hard work. And none of the passerby put their attention on the odd duo outside of their community.

The aroma of the roasted chow emitted and filled the nostrils of the two hungry souls - one of them leaned forward and gazed at the meat with intense focus, the other propped himself lazily against a boulder at the hillside.

"Sensei, I think we are nearly running out of firewood." Genos concluded from his close observation.

"Seriously? But the meat is almost done…" Saitama whirled his head around to search for more wood, or at least something ignitable. Luckily, he found a thing in his mind without much trouble.

A weathered book lied not too far from their camp. The cover of the book, with brown as its main tone, depicted a female warrior holding a sword high in one hand and her other hand and lower half in the form of multiple demonic snake body. Judging from the condition and position of the book, Saitama assumed it was dumped by its previous owner.

What a waste.

It would make some perfect burning material.

And it worked.

Well… maybe it worked a little _too well_.

When the book was dropped into the pyre, the dying flame did not just rekindled. It was revitalized with redoubled vigor, combusting into fiery inferno. Moreover, the fire refused to die down after this initial eruption and kept on raging, _devouring_ the near ready meat right above it, almost as if _fueled_ by the wrath of a certain Daedric Prince, whose name started with, obviously, B.

Saitama started at the sight.

"Oh, no!" Saitama grabbed a bucket amidst their travel gears. "I'll get some water."

Instantaneously, Saitama dashed into the Falkreath town with lightening speed, in hope of saving the main course of their dinner.

However, never having committed the layout of the village to his memory, Saitama did not turned right once he entered the town so he could reach the ridiculously conspicuous primary water source of Falkreath – a small stream originated from the hills on the north side. Conversely, the man turned left, and immediately spotted a stone well with a cast iron grate on it. Fortunately, the space between the bars of the grate was broad enough, and readily Saitama tossed the bucket in without a second thought.

The splash of an object falling from height and impacting the water surface never came. Instead, a bump of somethings hard clashing was heard, followed by an audible grunt from the depth of the well.

Was someone down there?

"Hey! Who threw that?" A voice echoed in the pit, brimming with anger.

Saitama perked his head over the mouth of the well, and through the dim light casting down into the chasm from the dusk, he saw a Nord man in rags at the bottom standing in knee-deep water.

The Nord was leaning against the circular wall of the well, clutching his skull tightly as if in pain.

Actually, he was most _definitely_ in pain, as the bucket, which had just landed on his head, drifted aimlessly at his feet.

"Oh, sorry. You okay?" Saitama apologized awkwardly, at the same time wondering why the man was down there. It was a _well_ , as in, a hole digging into the earth to get underground water, right? "Did you accidentally fall down the well or something?"

* * *

Back at the temporary camp Saitama and Genos set up outside the village, the fire on the wolf meat was already put out by Genos.

While Genos preferred fire and shock as his primary means of attack, he was still capable of casting the frost spells. Genos was, after all, specialized in destruction magic.

Therefore, Genos managed to extinguish the roaring blaze with a swift gust of simple frostbite.

However, Genos was not fast enough to stop his teacher, who either did not know the skill of his apprentice or forgot the easy way to deal with fire, or maybe both. And Saitama had run away to get water before Genos could completely acknowledge the situation.

After the fire died down, Genos examined the roasted food and deemed it edible. With this satisfying result, Genos paraded into Falkreath ensuing his mentor, and nearby the guard barracks, Genos located Saitama standing at the edge of a stone well and talking towards the depth of it. Genos could also hear an indistinct voice coming from the gap.

Did someone tumble into the pit?

* * *

 **AN: Here are some Hearthfire DLC references that I think fits this story. (Possibly the only.)**

 **There are indeed some bandits between Helgen and Falkreath in Skyrim game, and IMO they are quite annoying.**

 **And if you are familiar with Skyrim, it should be quite obvious who is in the well.**


	18. §2: Ill Met by a Bucket

**AN: **I managed to get this chapter done quicker, so the story won't be hanging there.****

 **Yeah… In the previous chapter, Boethiah's Calling failed once again. But he/she is not coming out yet.**

 **However, another daedric quest is.**

 **Let me introduce the man in the well – Sinding.**

* * *

"No! I did not fall down the well!" Sinding screamed, exasperated. "And I cannot throw your bucket up! It's too high!"

What was wrong with these two men!?

Sinding was having some really rough time.

It all started when Sinding was involved in a werewolf attack in the woods, and was unlucky enough to contract this god-forsaken disease – Lycanthropy. Sinding did not notice the infection at that time, and when he finally did notice, it was already too late, for the night was his first transformation. In such stage of Lycanthropy, the illness was almost incurable, unless he went through certain extraordinary procedures Sinding did not have access. So Sinding decided to control the bloodlust and desire of transformation induced by the sickness on his own.

It worked at a time, and Sinding had once been convinced that he could keep the urges checked, pretending nothing had happened until the end of days. However, as time went on, the impulse to hunt - _to feed_ \- became stronger and stronger, and the more Sinding denied, the more he wanted.

In his desperation, Sinding began to search for a ring – a relic of Hircine, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt, the one responsible for the creation of Lycanthropy.

Allegedly, this Ring of Hircine could help someone with beastblood, like Sinding, to control the transformations. After a long time of seeking, Sinding found the ring, and in this exhilarating moment, he did something he regretted dearly afterwards – he stole the artifact from its original owner. Hircine cursed this disrespectful thievery, and instead of helping Sinding gain control, the ring made Sinding lose it. The artifact compelled Sinding to transform in the middle of a town, and in the werewolf form, he attacked a little girl.

The only consolation was that the child survived, saved by a passing by stranger, who was also seriously injured in this incident. And later Sinding was arrested and put in this prison cell, which probably once had been some sort of well.

As if to add assault to injury, when Sinding was lamenting his miserable past in this cage, he was hit square in the head by a hard wooden object.

Sinding did feel terrible about that aggression and would accept it if the man above had thrown the thing at him out of spite.

But the man did it because he was trying to draw water!

Did he not notice the conspicuous river at the north of the town? Did he not look before tossing the bucket into a well? Did he not know the _well_ was actually a holding cell in Falkreath?

And most of all, did he not remember to _attach a rope_ before throwing a bucket into a well?

 _Then_ there came this second man, whose first action upon arrival was asking the _well-being_ of the first man, who just hit Sinding. After that, the second man proceeded to inquire Sinding the exact same questions the first man brought up – did Sinding fall by accident and could Sinding return the bucket.

"This is a prison cell. A PRISON CELL! Not a well!" Driven by the frustration and incredulousness, Sinding, at the verge of hysteria, threw everything on his mind at the two odd strangers over him. "I'm here because I am a _monster_!"

And after the initial outbreak, Sinding's volume fell down and his tone changed into helplessness and despair, lowering his head in regret. "I lost control… and attacked a little girl… all on account of this blasted ring. This ring… They said it could let me control the transformations…"

Sinding was not sure why he did it, but he explained how things went wrong and the hopelessness resided in him. He explained the curse Hircine laid and the remorse tormenting him. He explained the intensity of the bloodlust and how hard he had tried to resist it.

Sinding explained everything. Perhaps it was because he needed to vent his emotions, which he had been suppressing for far too long.

Finally, Sinding felt his mind eased as all the grievances was poured out. It might sound ridiculous, but Sinding now was somehow thankful for these strangers for being there, even though they hit him in accident. Sinding, after spilling his guts, was considerably relieved for the first time in a good while.

Now, taking a deep breath, Sinding sighed and slowly raised his head towards the two men. "Thank you for listening. And…"

 _And where in Oblivion did they go?_

Through the bars at the mouth of the pit, Sinding could only see the dim sky of late evening.

When did they leave exactly? Now thought about it, Sinding realized he had been the only one speaking for quite some time, and no response was given during his lengthy monologue.

Was Sinding just talking to himself all along?

Just as Sinding was about to cuss his luck, the door to the basement of the barracks opened, and through the bars of his cell door, Sinding could see two men walked towards his quarter.

One of the two was a blond, who seemed to be a Nord and was armed to the teeth. The other looked like a Breton – a bald one, and was utterly unarmed, dressing in plain clothes.

While Sinding was not able to tell for sure these two were the ones he had just had conversation with, since with the backlight of the heaven, Sinding had only seen the silhouette of the men. However, he had a hunch that they were.

"So can I get my bucket now?" The bald man inquired.

They were _definitely_ the people Sinding just spoke to.

* * *

The bucket could not fit through the space between the bars of the cell door.

The guard also refused to open the door so the two men could get the worthless container back. Actually, Sinding had no idea how these men were allowed to enter the barracks in the first place.

Sinding noticed the disappointment materialized on the bald man's face at the rejection of the guard, and Sinding could not help but check the bucket once more to see if there was something special about it. Why was it so important to these men?

But Sinding did not find anything unordinary. In the end, he concluded it was just a regular bucket – a cheap item that could be easily acquired in any general goods store. So the men were either wacky or poor, at least the bald one was.

As one could imagine, Sinding was downright surprised when the men offered to help him out with this troubled ring, although Sinding did not quite understand the reason of their generosity – something about hobby and being bored.

At any other time, Sinding might dismissed this proposal with suspicion towards these odd strangers. However, nowadays Sinding was desperate, at the edge of franticness. And he was willing to take whatever aid he could get without thinking whether it would come back and bite later on.

A drowning man would clutch at a straw.

Sinding started to elaborate. "I've been looking for a way to appease Hircine…"

"Or we can help you destroy the ring." The blond interrupted, expression serious and weapon ready.

"NO! You will only anger Hircine more if you do so!" Sinding was startled at that proposition, fearing the Daedric Prince would inflict worse curses. And Sinding also doubted that a Daedric artifact could be damaged easily.

"Then what do you want?" The bald man asked, with a blank look on his face and not quite evident impatience.

"I need to give him back the ring. I want to beg his forgiveness." Sinding said. "There is a certain beast in these lands. Large, majestic. It's said that Hircine will commune with whoever slays it. I tracked it into these woods, but then had my… accident with the child. And now I'm stuck here, while the beast wanders free…"

"So… You want us to talk to this Her-sing and tell him to come here and see you?" The bald man jumped to a conclusion Sinding did not understand. How in the world would someone think it was a good idea to ask a Daedric Lord to attend a jail visit.

"No. Just… Seek out the beast. He wanders these woods. Bring him down. And return this ring to the Lord of Hunt." Sinding sighed, defeated. "That is, if you are willing to help…"

Sinding retrieved the small artifact from a hidden pocket in his pants and extended his arm towards the pair, holding the silver circle on his open palm. Before Sinding could second-guess whether it was a good choice to accept the assistance, the bald Breton snatched the ring in a flash.

Then Sinding felt it, his ability to command the beast within - however small the control might be – had returned, when the ring left his possession. The alleviation coming along did not overtake Sinding for long, as he realized the meaning of it - he would not have to stay in this pit and pay for the crime that was forced on him, and he should leave this place before himself or someone else was harmed.

"I wish you luck, but should leave here while I still have my skin." Sinding said towards the two. "Should our paths cross again, I will remember your kindness. Farewell."

After his valedictory speech, Sinding turned away and walked into the center of the well. With a ferocious howl that could chill a seasoned warrior to the bone, Sinding transformed. His shape mutated and broadened into a more muscular form, his face elongated into the front of a wolf, his teeth sharpened, glinting in the moonlight, and his once smooth skin was covered with dark thick fur. Without another glance back at the strangers, Sinding, now a werewolf, leaped. Using his edged claws as climbing tool, Sinding escaped the cell through the mouth of the well.

Then Sinding ran, on his all four, like a wind. He did not pick a specific direction nor a certain destination. Sinding just sprinted in his full speed, hoping he could get as far away from the town as possible before anything else went wrong.

But he did not get far.

At just outside of Falkreath, near a fork in the road, Sinding felt a solid strike on his back. The bulk werewolf was sent soaring through the air, until he smashed into a tree and stopped, toppling the said wood in the course. Sinding did not know what hit him and could not fathom what kind of force would be able to do this to a werewolf.

Sinding – a feral werebeast with immense strength, enhanced physical immunity and improved sensory - was almost knocked unconscious by this single whack, and did not even see the attack coming.

All he could see in his dizziness, was the stars in his vision and… a dog in the middle of the road? Never mind, probably just a lost puppy.

Sinding recovered his bearing, looked around for his attacker, and noticed the bald man earlier was currently standing right beside him. How did he get here do fast?

"Hey." The bald man inquired, frowning slightly. "What do you think you're doing? Jail breaking?"

Sinding stared at the man in silence, unable to process what just had occurred. Was this man the one stoke him?

The stillness seemed to last for an eternity, or just a few seconds - Sinding could not tell - before Sinding finally choked out. "Jail break? No. I'm innocent… Maybe not innocent, but that incident was cause by that blasted ring! I never wanted it to happen…"

The bald gazed at Sinding, as if scrutinizing, or maybe not - Sinding could hardly discern anything from that expressionless yet ordinary face. Either way, the man replied at last, brandishing the accursed ring. "Okay. Fine. But you should at least come along and return this thing you steal."

"Yes… I suppose I should… But what if I lose control of the beastblood?"

"I'll just knock you out, like what I just did."

So it was indeed this man's doing. Standing in front of such unknown power, Sinding was at a loss, and could only nod mechanically. "Alright. I'll go."

Just as Sinding was about to pick himself up, he spotted the other man – the blond Nord – ran towards them from the town.

With a bucket in his hand…

"Sensei!" The blond called to the bald. "I got the bucket back when a guard opened the door and checked the cell after that prison break."

Then Sinding perceived a smile crept upon the Breton's ever-emotionless face.

"Good job, Genos!" The bald man exclaimed with one fist raised in a victorious gesticulation, excited at the return of the container.

At the sight, a weird thought came to Sinding – even though he had stolen a ring, at least he did not steal the bucket. And Sinding shuddered a little at the image of the bald Breton and his armed companion coming after him for a _bucket_.

Sinding deemed it a likely scenario, judging from the complacent looks of the two for this cheap item.

What was _wrong_ with these two men…

* * *

 **AN: This how you start a daedric quest with a bucket!**

 **Well… not really. There is no such option in the game.**

 **And another daedric quest is also in the corner, if you look closely…**


	19. §2: Two Men and Two Canines

**AN: TBH, while I personally do like to write about the Daedric quests, it was quite challenging to pull them off, as those Daedric Princes all have their unique personalities and abilities. And in TES lore, they are also quite powerful and with a lot of background stories I need to do research on to make sure the world structure is as intact as I can manage and they stay in character in my fic. So… yeah, I hope I can pull them off in a sensible way now and in the future, since more are coming.**

Saitama was glad to get his bucket back. The object was cheap, but money was money and Saitama had no intention to waste when he could help it.

Then there was this wolf-man they promised to help. As far as Saitama knew, this affair has something to do with a Daedric Prince named Her-Sing. Still, he was never the one familiar with those daedric things, and could not recall the last time he crossed paths with them. Well... honestly, Saitama had no idea of how those guys acted or what they really were. He assumed he would punch them all the same if they ever became some major threats. Therefore, while facing a Daedric Lord might deter any lesser man, Saitama was hardly bothered by it.

However, at the time the two men and the werewolf were about to set out to find this great beast roaming the woods, a dog interrupted them.

A talking dog.

"You are exactly what I was looking for." The dog said towards the three.

Saitama turned to the small animal, looking at it blankly. Genos drew his weapon with caution, fire spell glowing in his other hand.

Yet, Sinding, the werewolf, was the one responded first. "Did that dog just talk?"

"Really? You are the one who is a werewolf, and you're surprised by me? Yeah I just talked and am continuing to do so." The dog replied, annoyed, before it started to explain. "You see, my name is Barbas. And I have a problem I think you can help sort out."

After a few blinks, Saitama tapped his palm with the other fist as he came to a conclusion regarding the situation. "Ah… I get it. You are cursed too, like this werewolf here. You must be a weredog."

"This…" Genos contemplated, and was immediately enlightened. "… actually makes perfect sense. There are all kinds of were-creatures – werewolves, werebats, werebears, wereboars, werelions, werecrocodiles… The only question is why this weredog is so small comparing to other were-creatures. Perhaps it's the curse sensei said…"

"Stop it right there. I am not a weredog. And I am not cursed." The dog, Barbas, now seemed irritated, glaring at the two just spoke, before continuing to elaborate the aid it require. "The problem I had is just a bit of falling out between me and my master. We got into an argument and it got rather… heated. He's kicked me out until I find someone who can settled out disagreement. That's where you came in."

Saitama was not sure he was good at reconciling, since most of the disputes he resolved ended with one side getting punched. But he looked at the dog again, which was waggling its tail with anticipation glimmered in its eyes, and decided against his better judgement. "Fine. We can try to help. No promise it will work though. And we have to take care of this werewolf's problem first."

"That's all I'm asking. Thank you." The dog looked satisfied. "I'll get into details when we are setting out for my master. If this works out, I'll make sure you're rewarded."

Not that Saitama truly cared about reward. He doubted a dog could grant him much.

"Alright, let's go" With a barely visible shrug, Saitama took off, along with this odd group of four.

Sinding was the one taking the lead, since the woods they were heading was not marked on the map and only Sinding knew the exact location. They turned right at the three-way intersection and proceeded to follow the path east, entirely bypassing the town.

It was not until they were half-way to their destination - according to Sinding, that Genos mentioned their traveling gears and the roasted meat were still in their temporary camp next to Falkreath. And Saitama, as the fastest of the group, had to run back and carry everything – except for the bucket, which was held by Genos all along – back, while the rest of the band waited on the road side.

Fortunately, it did not take long for Saitama to return and they sorted out the luggage, which Saitama grabbed in a haste.

By the time all the distractions were tended and everyone was ready to set out again, the night had completely fallen.

The darkness engulfed the group as they marched forward. It was plenilune – the blood red Masser was at its full phase, yet impenetrable clouds covered the night sky, casting ominous shadow upon the earth beneath their feet. Every once in a while, through the gaps of the heavy clouds, shining softly, the moons and the sparse stars would bestow their precious light on the passing travelers.

The night was not silent, per se, as the twigs and leaves rustled by the cool breeze, and the crickets chirped in the bushes, only to fall into quietness when someone came near. It was, however, a serenity not tenable in broad daylight.

At time like this, the travelers were each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Sinding, for one, was unnerved. The old tales depicting the association between Lycanthropy and moons came to Sinding's mind as he caught a glimpse on the crimson Masser. Most of the stories either began with a depressed mood or ended in a broken heart. Sinding shook off these unsettling feeling and directed his focus on the surroundings. Still in the werewolf form, Sinding's senses were sharp as ever, and the closer they were to the goal, the wearier Sinding became.

At last, about to arrive at the woods, Sinding announced, voice low. "We are almost there. Be ready. I'm not certain what kind of beast we will be facing."

Saitama, on the other hand, yawned loudly before speaking, unaffected by the somber looks on Sinding's face. "Finally. After taking care of this thing, we need to heat the wolf meat again. It's a bit frozen by Genos' frost spell."

"Sensei, we must be careful. Hircine is a Daedric Prince." Genos warned in a grave tone, familiar with the alien unusual of Daedra kind.

As far as Genos knew from his past study, even the lesser Daedra in their physical incarnation could not be truly killed, and attacking them would only banish them to the void of Oblivion, until they took form again. Then there were the Daedric Princes – the most formidable Daedra, capable of creating and governing a world within themselves.

Genos explained further to his companies, "The Daedric Princes are all treacherous and deceitful. They are also extremely dangerous and powerful, even to someone as strong as sensei. When dealing with them directly, any mistake we make could be our last."

The dog, Barbas, now kept quiet and stopped barking as it constantly did on the previous part of the journey. However, none of the others noticed its atypical behavior, and even if they did, they would not be able to tell what was on the dog's mind.

Saitama contemplated briefly the previous admonition from Genos.

"But we're just giving the ring back." Saitama dug out the small artifact from one of his pocket, checking it out nonchalantly. "It's not like we are looking for a fight."

To be frank, Saitama wished they were going in a fight, instead of this tedious task of looking over a werewolf and returning a stolen item. It would be even better if it were a challenging fight, for Saitama could hardly feel any resemblance of excitement in his combats nowadays. Of course, Saitama would not pick a fight simply because he wanted stimulation – he was bored, yes, but not _that_ bored.

"Not a fight… A hunt." Sinding said, barely a whisper as they were now in the woods. "We need to slay the sacred beast of Hircine in order to speak with the Lord of the Hunt."

Saitama wondered if this beast was mighty enough. If what Genos said about the Daedric Princes were correct, there was a chance that their animals were also tough, right? So perhaps this hunt would not be so uninteresting after all, at least Saitama hoped.

Suddenly, Sinding, who was guiding the path, halted the advance of the group.

"Quiet." Sinding spoke softly, pointing his claw ahead. "There. I think the beast is right there."

Not far from the four, there was a small clearing in the forest, where a pond lying in the center.

Through the thickness of the trees and with the gloomy light of the cloudy night, Saitama squinted to make out a white shape beside the pond.

The animal, as Sinding said, was indeed large and majestic. Its beautiful white fur was glowing under the faint moonlight while it drank from the basin.

But the so-called _beast_ was an elk.

An elk. What a letdown.

At any rate, Saitama would hardly considered a deer a worthy opponent, large or not. And he was outright disappointed when he observed the creature – there was nothing special about it except for its size and color.

Sinding, however, was still cautious. "Maybe we should box it in, in case the beast try to escape. I'll…"

 _BOOM!_

The great white stag died with a whimper as a fireball sailed through the air and struck its side.

Saitama turned his gaze towards Genos, whose hand still flickered with the fire spell. So, _that_ was this guy's idea of being _careful_ when dealing with a Daedric Prince?

"I got it covered." Genos exclaimed, extinguishing the magic in his palm and starting to walk forward. "What now?"

Sinding was speechless, not expecting the _hunt_ would end in such an anticlimactic way - usually, hunting required the hunters to _chase_ their prey. "I… am not sure… They said Hircine would talk to the one who kill the beast. Perhaps we should just wait here…"

Saitama sighed. After this dull affair, they had to _wait_ for something to happen.

 _That was just great._

Before long, something happened.

From the carcass of the lifeless elk, a translucent phantom arose, taking the same form of the deceased. The ghost of the stag trotted towards the four in a steady speed, with a stature of dominance and superiority.

Sinding was astounded by the turn of events, and grew silent again, watching the specter approached with wide eyes. And under any other circumstances, it would be laughable that a wolf was frightened by a deer.

Genos also stopped his steps at the sight, unsheathed his weapon and conjured his spell, ready for combat. One could never be too cautious when the situation was involved with a Daedric Lord.

Barbas was still quiet, but now with an obscure expression that ought not to appear on a dog's face. Yet, before this peculiar scene, no one had the luxury of examining the oddity of the dog.

Saitama… Well… Saitama was focusing on something else. At the time he heard Sinding talking about waiting, Saitama made a decision to reheat the wolf meat first, since he did not know how long they would have to idle here. And Saitama was currently digging through his pack to find the meat he had randomly stuffed in.

It was not until the ghost of the stag stopped right in front of the group and started to talk, that Saitama eventually saw it.

With a glance towards the elk, Saitama judged the animal was not hurt. And without noticing the dead body was still on the ground, Saitama made a false judgement in a split second – the beast was not dead.

 _As it seemed, the animal of Daedric Lord was truly strong, and was not even slightly harmed by Genos's attack._

Saitama also remembered Sinding's assertion that the beast had to be slain so they could talk to Hircine.

Summing up everything in his mind, Saitama made a conclusion that he should kill this beast as fast as possible and he should take the seemingly amicable elk seriously.

Saitama's expression harden at the thought, dropping his pack on the ground and whirling around. Facing the giant stag, Saitama exercised something he had not done in a long time.

 _A Serious Strike._

 **AN: All those were-creatures really exist in TES lore. Just no weredog, at least I don't think there is.**

 **Saitama just threw his first serious move in this fic, and I'll have to apologize for leaving a cliffhanger here. I don't think the next part will fit in this chapter w.r.t. the flow of the story. But don't worry, I'm already writing the next chapter as we speak.**


	20. §2: The Cease of the Hunt

**AN: Long author's note this chapter (both before and after). Skip them if you want, since the story will still make sense without any AN. Read them if you want more insight of this fanfic.**

 **What Genos said in the previous was technically true. Whenever the player kills a Dremora or things like that, the creature does not actually die, but is sent to Oblivion. And the only Aedra/Daedra I know that had died was Lorkhan (also known as Shor), who gave his own life to create Nirn.**

 **That story is complicated and has different/contradictory versions in game, so I will not go into the details. But the thing is Lorkhan, even after his death, still influences Nirn and have some sort of conscious.**

 **Yeah… death is a somewhat obscure concept in TES. And whether killing a Daedric Prince is feasible, from what I have gathered, is still debatable.**

 **So I will try my best to make things consistent, and do correct me if I got something wrong.**

 **Oh, and a serious punch is of course** _ **serious**_ **.**

* * *

Sinding watched as the phantom of the elk came to a halt before the group. An authoritative voice emitted from the creature, resounding in the dark forest.

" _ **Well met, hunter."**_

The voice was directed at the blond Nord, Genos, Sinding realized. The specter must be the avatar of Hircine. Therefore, it was currently communing with the one who slayed the beast.

Sinding was again unsure what to do. Should he interrupt and apologize to the Daedric Prince or should he wait the scene to unfold further?

However, before Sinding could make up his mind, or Genos could reply to the greeting, another thing took place - something beyond Sinding's understanding.

Sinding saw the bald man, Saitama, approached the elk and threw a punch at the ghost in lightly upward angle.

However, Sinding could not spare his thought pondering why the man attacked, for his mind was thoroughly occupied by what happened next.

The strike landed solidly on the half-transparent specter, while the once impassive look on Saitama sharpened into seriousness.

Then the spectral form crumbled, not into a pile of ghostly remains like most dispelled spirits, but into nothingness, dissipating in the thin air.

But the outcome of the punch was much more than that.

Though the fist of the man had stopped mid-air after hitting the phantom, the shockwave of the punch raged on. A blast of berserk wind followed that seemingly ordinary strike, refusing to cease as it soaring towards the woods behind. The ferocious air current teared down everything in its way - trees, boulders shattered and broken under its intensity.

Still, the remnant of force traveled on.

Beyond the forest and a narrow trail, a steep cliff stood tall, verging a mountain range. And Sinding watched in disbelief as a portion of the mountains was shaven off by the violent turbulence.

Finally, the tenacious airflow, whose angle remained uptilt, traversed into the heaven above. From the centerline of the punch, the thick clouds dispersed, and instantly the entire sky became clear. The stars studded and the moons revealed their full view, yet the beauty of the night went neglected.

After the roaring storm caused by the strike died down, the group stood in silence.

Deafening silence.

Shuddering unconsciously, Sinding failed to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

How powerful exactly was this punch?

And was this kind of power really belong to a human being?

Breath taken and awestruck, Sinding did not even noticed he had changed back into his human form.

* * *

 **The Hunting Grounds, the Realm of Hircine**

The souls that were claimed by Hircine spent their eternal afterlives hunting and chasing preys in this sphere of the Daedric Prince, for the delight Hircine lied in the thrill of the game.

Nevertheless, in this moment, none of the shouting and clamor of the hunt could be heard. All the beings in this realm had stopped their movement, be it pursuing or escaping, and was now standing like statues, petrified at the incomprehensible phenomenon.

They could feel the whole plane shook as an inexplicable force surged in, rippling the air and wrinkling the earth.

Then the true horror came when part of the realm collapsed. In the aftershock, the azure heaven cracked and the firm ground fissured. Though directionless, the stalkers and preys alike flighted in panic, fearing for their lives after death.

And for once, Hircine, the ruler of his sphere, lost his composure, stunned by how the event unfolded.

The mighty Daedroth sensed an unexplainable energy channeled through the link connecting himself and his personification in Nirn, and proceeded to hit his realm hard, causing his world to start falling asunder.

And Hircine had to exert his godly power to hold the plane together.

Essentially, everything that was ever formed and every energy that ever existed was all, in a sense, an aspect of magic, and for an existence as powerful and ancient as the Daedric Lord, the line was blurred between physicality and spirituality. Hence, strength was magic, and magic was strength, just not in the way most people could understand.

However, such happening was unheard of even in the oldest tales among the gods – the pure strength of a mere mortal was capable of breaking the barrier separating different worlds.

Or it was, perchance, an occurrence that transcended knowledge and logic, beyond both the ephemeral and the everlasting.

Incomprehension occupied the mind of the Daedric Lord as never before, as Hircine perceive his own power dimmed and his influence towards Mundus lessened - perhaps countervailed by the mysterious force, or perhaps fatigued from his exertion.

Either way, Hircine would have to take his time to rest - to recuperate.

And the future story involving Hircine's intimate presence upon Nirn? It might have to wait until the next era.

* * *

 **The woods, east of Falkreath**

"Done." Saitama dusted his hand, satisfied at the dispelling of the elk. "So when will the Daedric Prince talk to us?"

The others were still gawking in their stupor.

Genos was the first one to recover, getting better in dealing with astonishment from his past experience with Saitama. "Sensei, I believe the thing you just punched was the avatar of Hircine. And he was talking to us before you hit him."

"Ah! Really?" Saitama scratched his head sheepishly, awkward about this _accident_. "I thought that was the deer we need to kill…"

Sinding had finally recovered as well, and immediately noticed something different -his beastblood and the malevolence induced by it were weaken. Now in his human form, for the first time in a long while, Sinding felt the disease was manageable.

"I am not certain how. But I think what you just did worked." Sinding said. "The curse. I think it's gone."

"Oh… good… in that case…" Saitama was never the one to overthink things. "We can rest and maybe reheat the wolf meat."

Then Saitama spotted the carcass of the stag, which remained lying on the floor next to the puddle.

This was the night, when the Lord of Hunt turned silent, when the serenity proved the still water ran deep… and when the sacred beast of Hircine served as the meal of four travelers.

The dog named Barbas was eerily soundless throughout the incidents at that night, almost as if wary of them.

* * *

 **Apocrypha, The Realm of Hermaeus Mora**

It sounded ridiculous that Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of knowledge, was clueless about what befell on Hircine.

But it was the truth.

The _fact_ of diminishing of Hircine's sway was truly obvious. The _reason_ , not so much.

The other certainty was the involvement of the Dragonborn - the powerful mortal Hermaeus Mora had been keeping an eye on.

Yet it was unlikely that the strength of a human, however strong one was, could rival the gods.

And chances were, there was some higher power secretly at works during this event, while hiding their agenda and intention.

Therefore, Hermaeus would keep watching in discreet.

And when the time was right, he would test out the capability of this mortal man…

With caution.

* * *

 **The woods, east of Falkreath**

After a night's sleep in the woods beside the small pond, the group woke up early and made some decision about what their next step was.

Sinding, although not cursed anymore, was still a werewolf, and there was always a possibility that a were-beast would lose control after suppressing the bloodlust for too long. In their discussion, they concluded that since Lycanthropy was not exactly a newly appeared disease, it would be possible to find some record regarding curing it in the library of the College of Winterhold, where Genos had access to.

It was a long shot, but a slim chance was better than none.

Before heading towards the northeast city, there was another thing needed to be done, namely aiding a dog called Barbas.

For some reason, Barbas seemed hesitant to lay out its need at first, but then some sort of self-confidence and pride took over. And the dog spoke up. "My master is Clavicus Vile, Daedric Prince of wishes."

"By Talos! Another Daedric Prince." Sinding gasped, recognizing gradually these encounters were far beyond his own scope ever since he met the two men.

"Does it mean you are also a Daedra?" Genos was again on his guard, steering his attention to Barbas.

"Hey, Genos." Saitama interrupt the mage's clear intention of casting incinerate, for by Saitama's reckoning, Barbas was merely a regular lost puppy, albeit a talking one. "That is just a dog. No need to get pissy."

"Yes, sensei." Genos replied to Saitama, before addressing the dog. "So Daedra, what do you want?"

"As I said before," Barbas continued, "I need your help so I can reunite with my master."

"And where is your master?" asked Saitama.

"Since he banished me, Vile's been rather weak. He can't manifest very far from one of his shrines." Barbas explained. "I know there's a cult that worships him at Haemar's Shame. We should be able to talk to him there. When the problem resolves, I'll see to your reward. Just don't trust any offer he makes you… okay?"

* * *

While both Genos and Sinding looked reluctant at Barbas' offer, no one objected when Saitama decided to help it.

Of course, Saitama made this decision because it was a requisition from a fluffy dog.

Who could resist these authentic puppy eyes?

Therefore, the band set out for Haemar's Shame, which was luckily on their way to Winterhold. But before arriving at the destination, they had to pass through Helgen, the place that gave rise to these chain events.

It was when they entered the town that Saitama recalled something they forgot as well.

Well… Someone, actually.

Lokir, the man Saitama and Genos escorted to Falkreath, was left behind, and was probably sulking when he became aware the duo had ditched him.

At least the guy who sent them, Sten, did not seem too angry about it, saying Lokir could find his own way back as the road between the towns was cleared of bandits.

So no one felt too bad about it. Unwittingly ignoring people was perfectly normal, right?

Sten also informed them the shack Saitama chose was still not ready. Not that they currently had the leisure to move in.

And the three men and a dog resumed their journey without spending too much time at Helgen.

As they proceeded further east, the road they walked became more undulating. The rugged mountains ascended on both sides, overlooking the travelers below. For an average person, a sense of oppression might rise when treading on such path, acknowledging the insignificance of one soul comparing to the grand landform. However, none of this group could be called average, for they either had witnessed something unimaginable, or they were themselves unfathomable.

Naturally, the road was mostly empty – not everyone would have the courage to wander on this craggy track, which was also the home to many dangerous wild animals. The only person they came across was when they were half way between Helgen and Haemar's Shame, an adventurer holding an ebony dagger cut into the main path from a branching trail and hastened towards their opposite direction. But there were no further complication and none of the four noted the encounter.

In the end, Barbas led the group in front a cave on the mountainside.

Then the dog, who was able to speak human language, just walked in without another word.

No warning of what was inside, no declaration of arrival… Nothing.

It was Genos who halted the rest of the group. "According to the map, this is entrance of Haemar's Shame."

"Then why do we stop?" Saitama was indifferent regarding where they were going, as long as the dog was properly returned.

"Sensei, the Daedra dog mentioned a cult dwelling in the cave." Genos prompted, as most of the cults had some sort of attacking strangers on sight policy.

"A cult… " Saitama mulled over a little, not remembering much of Barbas' speech.

Luckily, Genos did. "Yes, a cult devoted to Clavicus Vile, a Daedric Prince and the master of the dog."

"So it shouldn't be much of a problem, if we explain to them we are here to bring back the dog of that Vile guy." Saitama concluded.

Genos nodded in apprehension, finding his teacher's point reasonable, and was now ready to follow Saitama into the cavity.

On the other hand, Sinding was not so positive, still uneasy about the Daedra kind. "Can I stay outside? I don't feel like seeing another Daedric Lord."

"Whatever you like." Saitama replied, before striding towards the entrance. "Genos, let's go."

"Yes, sensei."

* * *

 **AN: I kind of feel sorry for Hircine, since he was far from the worst Daedra in game. And there is the fact that he went down by accident…**

 **Haven't made up my mind whether he will appear again in this fic though.**

 **Another thing I think I'll mention here is the reason why in the first place I chose to make the OPM characters NOT coming from their original world.**

 **As you can see in this chapter, the TES world has quite different rules from OPM. (For example, everything is about magic and there are lots of god-like creatures.) And I doubt I could write things down seamlessly regarding to the divergent constructions of the universes. Maybe some better authors can pull that off, but I think if I try, my story might end up either destroying the TES lore or the OPM characterization.**


	21. §2: A Daedra's Worst Friend

**AN: As you can tell, I'll do my best to update rather regularly. Twice a week _if_ I can help it.**

 **Like before, you are welcome to point out my mistakes in lore/grammar/spelling or whatsoever, and I will correct those accordingly when I got time. Ideas are also welcomed, since they are usually inspirational for me. To those who had already done the above, you all have my thanks.**

* * *

Genos still could not comprehend what exactly happened that night in the forest with the Daedric Prince Hircine, and chose to simply record the event in his note for study later on. There were more pressing matters at the moment, including dealing with another Daedric Lord.

Genos followed his mentor into the narrow entryway of the cave, Haemar's Shame. The dark tunnel did not meander far before it broadened into a larger cavum.

At this point, the duo encountered, they assumed, their first cult member – a male Nord wearing an incomplete set of fur armor.

The man stood on top of a wooden platform, which could be accessed through a man-made ramp.

What confused the pair was that the dog Barbas, who had entered the cave before them, had ran up the slope and was currently engaging the somewhat bandit like cultist.

Since both the cult devotee and the dog were related to Clavicus Vile, shouldn't they be on the same side?

To avoid the things to escalate even more, Saitama disrupted the fight by charging in, picking the mutts up and backing away. However, when Saitama tried to talk the cultist down, the man resumed his attack, seemingly to be in a state of delirium. Genos suspected the man was under some sort of illusion spell, but could not confirmed.

A quick chop on the man's neck from Saitama solved everything, and the two men ventured on, carrying the dog in their hold and leaving the unconscious cult member lying on the ramp.

They had their second encounter when stepping on another ramp, which led deeper into the dungeon, unlike the first incline that resulted in a dead end. This cult member, also unlike the first, was a female and was more sane, yet with an odd appearance – her skin color was pallid, ill-looking, and her eye was purely black, sclera included.

That was when everything became clear to Genos - Haemar's Shame was not only the hideout of cultists, also the lair of vampires. In other word, the cult consisted mostly of vampires.

The first man they met in this cave was not a vampire, but a thrall –unfortunate sentient beings that had fallen under the spell of vampires, losing their free will and tending to attack anything that were not the vampire kind. The second female was, without a doubt, a vampire who was a true member of the cult, dissimilar to the senseless thrall.

The women was hostile, possibly seeing the three intruders, and lashed out at them without questioning.

It did not work, of course.

Genos considered to burning the vampire with his fire magic, which was the weakness of her kind, yet did not manage to act in time as Saitama dashed forward and blocked his line of shot.

The movement of Saitama was too fast, and Genos was not able to tell what actually happened. Genos could only see a blur of motion, and after that, the frozen up cultist and a broken sword beside her. Next to the woman, Saitama stood with an unimpressed expression, still holding the dog in one arm.

Apparently, the cult member did not grasped how did things wind up like this either, but was smart enough to know she and the bald man were not of the same league, in contrast to a certain assassin that had not appeared for a while.

So instead of striking again and testing her luck, the woman opted for a civil conversation.

The vampire then asked the million-dollar question regarding the mystery of life. Well… not really, just a question too often asked to intruders.

"Who are you?"

"I am Saitama, that is Genos, and this is Barbas." Saitama replied what precisely the cultist inquired, addressing himself, the Nord behind him, and the dog in his arm.

Genos doubted this self-introduction would mean anything to the woman, since he do not think any of the group was famous enough to catch her attention.

However, Genos was wrong. The woman somehow did know one of the names – the name of the _dog_.

"Barbas… As in the companion of Lord Vile?" The cultist exclaimed, looking at the dog surprisedly.

"Yes, that would be me," said Barbas, before spun its head towards Saitama, annoyed at its current predicament. "Can you put me down?"

"Sure. As long as you don't run around attacking people like before." Saitama set Barbas down and warned, worrying the dog would dog would bite people wantonly. "If another loony appear, I'll take care of them."

Even more astonished than before, the cultist stared at the talking dog.

"Please forgive my disrespect." The woman's demeanor had turned one hundred and eighty degrees as she was now convinced of the animal's identity. "You must be here to see Clavicus Vile. I will lead the way."

Genos was again fascinated by the foresight of his teacher, who was capable of dismissing this volatile situation and avoiding the imminent with ingenious articulation.

At least that was what Genos believed. In truth, Saitama just answered the cultist's exact inquiry without thinking – nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

The cult member was true to her words, and guided the gang down the only beaten path into the cave. Along the road, there were more vampires and thralls dwelling in each major cavern - some in groups, some alone. The woman, Vinoa as she called herself, had even gone as far as giving introduction of her companions to the travelers.

Just like a genuine tour guide.

While Saitama disapproved Vinoa's lengthy monologue, Genos gained more insight on this so-called cult.

They were mostly vampires - eight vampires, four thralls and one frostbite spider to be precise, including Vinoa and the unconscious thrall.

Vampires, similar to werewolves, were caused by a disease from Daedric Prince. However, in Genos' view, this disease, Sanguinare Vampiris, was more sinister than Lycanthropy.

Lycanthropy turned its sufferers into bloodthirsty animals, whereas Vampirism turned them into undead that had to prey on mortals in order to sustain. Werewolves fed on the dead carcass of their victims, but vampires must fed on the livings – the livings with blacksouls, the livings who were sentient. That was the reason why vampires kept thralls, to have them as steady food supply.

The vampires were better known in Skyrim than the were-beasts, and were hated and feared by the regular people, both because of their foreign nature and the danger they posed - every vampire felt the urge allure of blood when in the vicinity of a mortal's warmth. Therefore, they usually stayed in coven away from settlements, some for the safety of themselves, some for the safety of others, and some for both.

From what Vinoa said, this particular coven worship Clavicus Vile in hope of curing their vampirism, so they could return to their normal lives. And the thralls and dead bodies lying around in the cave were bandits that used to rob people who came nearby.

After listening to Vinoa, Genos recollected and commented he once read a book saying that the sphere of Clavicus Vile was the granting of power and wishes through ritual invocations and pacts.

Saitama, on the other hand, expressed his skepticism about this making-a-wish thing, but remarked if this would actually work, they should probably leave the werewolf Sinding here to save some trouble – Winterhold was far away.

Eventually, Genos realized he could hardly blame this group of vampires of what they had done. Yes, they were not innocent, but they were not truly evil either - they just wanted to survive. Nevertheless, Genos did condemn the creator of vampirism - the Lord of Domination, Molag Bal, who nurtured this illness in a method much more appalling than Hircine. At the thought of Molag Bal, Genos mused as he recalled his first and only confrontation to the Prince, and his first meeting with his teacher.

Genos' contemplation was interrupted as they finally arrived in front of a giant statue standing four-men tall.

The statue depicted a man dressing in robes and with horns on his head. The man held aloft a mask, which also had two horns protruding. Beneath the feet of the sculpture lied pieces of flesh, which were some sort of offerings to their god from the cultists.

Genos concluded this must be the shrine of Clavicus Vile.

Vinoa confirmed it. "This is it. Shrine to Clavicus Vile."

"Now what?" Saitama asked. "How do we talk to this Cleverless Vile?"

"It's _Clavicus_ Vile." Barbas corrected. "Just go speak to the statue."

Saitama seemed hesitate to talk to a sculpture, possibly worrying about looking stupid – that was a piece of lifeless stone after all.

Still, they had gone through too much trouble to give up now, and Saitama said to the stone. "Are you the master of the dog?"

Then, as a reply, a voice, powerful yet light-hearted, resounded in the vacant of the cavern.

" _ **Why, yes, indeed. I am Clavicus Vile, the master of that insufferable mutt. Since you've already brought him here, let's hear it. What's your request, mortal?"**_

This was the first time Vinoa perceived Vile's words, while in the past when the cult pray to the Daedric Lord, the only response they got was silence. Surprise and excitement swelled in Vinoa, for what happened before her affirmed their faith and aroused their hope - the Daedric Lord resided right in the sculpture and spoke to the mortals with his own voice.

The next thing the bald man said, however, sent Vinoa into panic.

"What do you think you're doing? You can't just throw your pet away when you don't want it anymore." The bald Breton sternly scolded the Daedroth, finger pointing. "Stray animals will become troubles to other people. No one ever taught you to take responsibility for your own dog?"

Vinoa was not sure she heard it right. The man had just berated a Daedric Prince and called Barbas, who garnered Vile's partial power, a pet. Such disrespect. Such defilement. And Vinoa shivered in fear that the Prince would smite the strangers and her coven alike in a fit of wrath.

Luckily, the Daedric Lord seemed to be in a good mood and spoke with only minor irritation.

" _ **Watch your tone, mortal. And I will not take back that annoying pup.**_ _**Request denied. No deal. I'm glad to be rid of him. Even if it does mean I'm stuck in this pitiful shrine, in the back end of... nowhere…**_

 _ **Well... perhaps there is a way he could earn his place back at my side. Maybe. But no promises."**_

Before the bald man could resume his rebuking, the blond Nord cut in, and Vinoa almost let out a breath of relief. Almost.

"Sensei, Daedric Princes are wicked and cunning. When they held their end of the bargain, they would often bend the words to their likings." The blond said to the bald. "It's better that we do not accept any of their deals."

At the impious sentences, Vinoa felt her heart raced again.

What were these two thinking talking like this towards such a powerful being?

However, this time, Vile was seemingly unoffended, only amused.

" _ **You are actually right, but I have no reason to trick you. I can promise you. There will be no strings attached. No messy surprises. At least, not for you. And it wouldn't hurt to hear it out, right?**_

 _ **There's an axe. An incredibly powerful axe. An axe powerful enough for me to have quite a bit of fun, indeed. If you bring it to me, I'll grant you my boon.**_

 _ **As I recall, it's resting in Rimerock Burrow. Barbas can lead you right to it. The little mutt might even earn his place back at my side."**_

Saitama calmed a bit, not sure how demanding the owner to take back his dog ended up in a barter, but asked anyway, "Where is this Rimerock Burrow?"

Genos took out a map, looked up the location, and answered. "It's at the northwest of Skyrim."

"We are in the south… That's a long way there." Saitama frowned. Rejoining a dog with its owner should not be this troublesome, and Saitama could not care less about the _boon_ this statue mentioned – it all sounded suspicious. Then an idea came to him. "Hey, Genos. Can Daedra starve to death?"

"No, I don't think so." Genos replied. "They are just spiritual manifestations on Nirn."

"And you said Barbas is a Daedra?"

"Yes, sensei."

"So we can simply leave the dog here." Saitama deduced with a smile on his face, smug at his ingenious solution. "And the master and the pet will be reunited, since the Daedric Prince cannot leave the shrine."

"Brilliant plan!" Genos applauded scheme.

So the two left the dog there with an advice regarding how to deal with its master - "You just keep bothering him until he cannot bear it anymore, and then he will have no choice but to take you back."

To be honest, Barbas' barking was indeed noisy enough.

And the two walked out of the cave, ignoring the protest from the Daedric Lord and leaving the cult of vampires gawking.

 _Problem solved! That was easy._

Or in another word, the problem now belong to the two Daedra, who caused it in the first place. All were well-deserved.

* * *

Vinoa and her gang watched the two men left, and then glanced at the scene where a statue and a dog rested face to face, glaring at each other in awkwardness.

After a short debate, the coven made a consensus about what they were going to do next.

And the whole group of vampires chased after the two travelers at once.

* * *

 **AN: No one cared for that useless axe Vile offered.**


	22. §2: Haunted, Hunted and Misunderstanding

**AN: Regarding the last chapter, I always think Saitama have the talent of simplifying a complicated situation. And the guy is often oblivious but not blatantly stupid. He is just extremely normal and abnormal at the same time, if that makes any sense...**

* * *

Saitama regretted having mentioned to the vampires that they were trying to find cure for Lycanthropy.

At that time, it was just a harmless remark.

However, after the conversation between the two travelers and the Daedric Prince, the cult realized the chance that Clavicus Vile would remove their vampirism was slim. For one, the Daedroth showed no interest towards the coven, as he had stayed silent in their long terms of worship and had not offer any bargain to them. Then, the Prince was not in his full power and probably could not grant their wishes at the moment.

As a result, the coven decided they would stop being a cult. Instead, the coven would follow the two strangers and ask for their aid.

They were going to treat a werewolf after all, so why not vampires too?

Moreover, there was no good reason to reject a suffering group that tried to get help.

And the gang of three grew into _eleven_ , which was too crowded for Saitama's taste. That was _after_ the vampires agreed to free their _four_ thralls under the insistence of Saitama and Genos.

Looking at the eight vampires and one werewolf he needed to _babysit_ , Saitama felt the urge to facepalm. There had better be solutions of the diseases in the College of Winterhold, or else… Actually, Saitama had no idea what would they do if the cure could not be found.

Oh… well… they would worry about it when it truly came to that.

Still, it was a long way to Winterhold, and something was bound to happen in their journey.

Like this incident in Ivarstead.

* * *

 **Ivarstead, the Rift**

This morning, the group of eleven arrived in this little town at the foot of the mountains.

Because of Saitama's stubbornness on a relative regular life schedule, the band usually traveled in daytime. Hence, the unfortunate vampires had to engulf themselves in hoods and capes so they could escape the harming sunlight for their kind. It was a small price to pay for getting rid of this sinister illness.

Even though Saitama could easily have the werewolf and vampires under control and the people of Skyrim were painfully oblivious _to the point of blindness_ regarding the bloodsuckers among them, the group had no intention to linger in the town. For there was not much to do in such a small village and there would be no inn large enough to hold this many people.

To their dismay, a middle-aged Nord with a baldhead and a tied-up full facial hair ran into them, and the advance of the group was halted for a while.

"By Ismir's beard! I thought…" The man exclaimed, voice cracked, face blanched and completely horrified. "No, I am _sure_ you are dead!"

Granted, there were many ghosts in Skyrim, and some of them did skulk around in daylight. The group was also mostly consisted of undead, namely vampires.

However, instead of addressing any of the blood-lusting creatures, the mid-aged Nord was staring at Saitama, mouth agape.

Saitama did not recognize this guy. Then again, he was never someone good with faces.

The man started to blabber in hysteria afterwards. "I watched you went up the mountains... Then the storm came... I tried to look for you the next day. When I saw the chest in front the High Hrothgar was empty, I knew you didn't make it. But I couldn't even find your body. I should've never sent you up there unarmed. Or should've at least warned you how dangerous the path was. And now you're back to haunt me… I am sorry! I didn't mean to cause your death. I'll do anything to lay your soul to rest!"

That finally brought up Saitama's memory. This man was the one who had asked him to send the ration to the lonely old men on the mountaintop, when he passed by the town more than one month ago.

It seemed the man thought Saitama had died on the road. Maybe Saitama should have returned to him earlier…

But this guy was definitely overreacting, and the group had more important things to do than listening to the crazy talk.

Before Saitama could made up his mind whether to pacify him or just shush him away, Genos interrupted the Nord rudely, in a stance ready to burn the trembling man alive. "Stop talking nonsense. Someone as strong as sensei is _incapable_ of dying. If you keep on blocking our way and wasting our time, I will make sure you regret it _dearly_ …"

Saitama was amazed that the man's face could grow even paler. The Nord scurried away in fright, as if only noticed now the armed-to-the-teeth spellsword and the nine pairs of bloodthirsty eyes.

That was an _effective_ way to dismiss meddlers. An ideal one? Not so much.

"Hey, Genos… " Saitama stared at the impossible spellsword. "Don't you think that was a bit extreme?"

"Letting a mad man delay our journey is pointless and unwise." Genos replied.

Though the man who just darted away was not exactly insane, and Genos' statement could hardly justify his erratic behavior, this time Genos had one thing right.

The delay was truly unwise.

As if to corroborate what Genos said, a chilling howl rose behind the two. Saitama looked back in time to see Sinding completely transform into his wolf form.

Fortunately, the werewolf did not lose his mind, and was still able to converse like normal person, judging from the cuss he let out.

Unfortunately, the townspeople lost their wit, and was either escaping in terror or unsheathing their weapons for battle.

While this gang had the fighting capacity to crush possibly any adversary in Tamriel, there was no way they would be fighting a bunch of civilians and guards. None of them was willing to step up to the level of psychopathic murderer, newly joined vampires included.

So Saitama made the most reasonable choice to lead the group away and run like _hell_.

Hopefully, the townsfolks would give up the chase when they got far enough.

At least the speed of the group was fast, since everyone in the group was either with enhanced level of strength or with _that-kind-of-power-was-totally-beyond-comprehension_ level of strength.

* * *

A male Nord, cladded in a set of heavy armor with main color of blue and brown, ambled in a steady pace on his way towards Whiterun.

The Nord, Agmaer, was a new recruit of the Dawnguard, a recently reestablished faction with one single goal – hunting vampires.

Growing up as a farm boy from countryside, Agmaer had obviously not been a skillful warrior. He had set out to join the order on a whim upon hearing the more-frequent-than-ever vampire attacks, eager to offer his help - however insignificant it was. Truth to be told, Agmaer was surprised when the faction admitted him even at the sight of his evident nervousness and undisputable inexperience. Agmaer was genuinely thankful for the acceptance the Dawnguard leader gave and the trainings his comrades offered. He had worked tirelessly to hone his fighting techniques, especially crossbow, preparing himself for the future battle.

And right now, on his first assignment as a member of Dawnguard, Agmaer felt he had finally become a legitimate vampire hunter. For a seasoned veteran, such as the other recruit that had joined the order at the same time with Agmaer, this task was not exactly engaging, as it was simply fishing for information concerning vampires from town to town. Yet it was a suitable job for someone like Agmaer to have a taste on hunting.

Therefore, while this quest was hardly a touchstone for Agmaer's proficiency, it was a milestone of the man's improvement. He took it seriously.

Nevertheless, Agmaer had neither overheard anything of value nor met a vampire in person in his voyage so far.

Riften had been the first stop of Agmaer's intelligence collection, Ivarstead the second. The Nord had left Ivarstead this morning, heading towards the center of the province. After a good night's sleep, the man was refreshed with vigorous courage, and was striding with confidence on the suburb track, viewing the rural landscape absent-mindedly. With the crossbow firm in his clutch, Agmaer felt he was ready for _anything_.

Although he had never seen a vampire for real, Agmaer was convinced at this particular time not even a coven of vampires could make him falter.

Or so he imagine.

That was how the man stumbled into the enormous gap between reality and imagination.

The sound of multiple running footsteps came from distance behind Agmaer, seizing the Nord's attention. Agmaer turned around only to freeze in shock. Not witnessing a vampire in practice before did not hinder his ability to recognize one from the teaching of Dawnguard – in this case, a group of them. The man rubbed his eyes hard to make sure what he saw was not an illusion.

It was really happening – a coven of vampires were charging towards him.

And along with them, was that a rumored werewolf?

Agmaer wavered as his blood ran cold, and an uncontrollable shiver caught him off guard.

No, he was definitely not ready to fight a coven of vampires, let alone plus a were-beast.

There were also two regular men dashing before the group of blood-lusting creatures, possibly running for their lives. Being a vampire hunter, Agmaer felt terrible not capable of aiding them in this dire moment, for even fending himself seemed problematic.

As a matter of fact, Agmaer no longer feel like a hunter, but a prey. A prey that trembled and cowered in front of the ferocious predators.

When the fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, the man chose the latter. It took all of Agmaer's might to avert his eyes from the approaching threat, turn his heels, and start to flee.

However, even though Agmaer was running at top speed, he could hear the clatter in his rear grew nearer as the creatures closing the space between him and them. The pounding of his heart was all he could hear as the primal fear overtook him, while the rest of sounds went ignored. Dizziness, fatigue and nausea all hit him at once, but he would not allow them to slow him down - not in the looming presence of imminent death.

Still, each time he glimpsed back, Agmaer could see the shape of horde grew bigger in his vision, closing in.

The Nord felt like he had been running for eternity before his last glance to the pursuers. And when he turned his attention forward on the path under his feet again, a shadow fell upon him, knocking him solid in the head.

Before plummeting into the darkness of unconsciousness, the last thought of Agmaer was that he had been attacked by the accomplice of the enemy and was about to meet his end.

* * *

On their way of gaining distance from Ivarstead, Saitama saw a heavily armed Nord in front, who began to run away without any good reason.

The man did even sprint for fifty feet before running headfirst into a _tree_ on the roadside and knocked himself out cold.

Saitama stopped shortly to check the guy. Then resumed their _grand escape_ immediately after making sure he was still alive.

What a strange man, Saitama noted. If the guy did not keep looking around when sprinting, he would probably be still fine. It was important to focus on the thing one was doing.

It only occurred to Saitama much later that day that perhaps the strange man was running away in fear of the werewolf among them.

* * *

Waking up on the wayside with a severe headache, Agmaer felt lucky to be alive. He did not know how he survived the encounter during his unconsciousness, and could only speculated the creatures had gone after the two regular men he saw earlier instead of him.

At that notion, Agmaer realized how lousy he was as a vampire hunter. What kind of vampire hunter would retreat at the first sight of the foes, and consider it fortunate when the foul creatures abandoned himself and chased after other poor victims?

Moreover, remembering how the dozen pairs of bloodthirsty eyes pierced into the deep of his soul, remembering the hopelessness swelled in his chest when facing the distinctly greater power, Agmaer doubt he would be able to confront a vampire in the future without thinking back at this dreadful scene.

The man, the _vampire hunter_ , was indeed traumatized by his first encounter.

For once, Agmaer was skeptical about his decision of joining Dawnguard. Maybe he was simply not cut out for such a job.

As it seemed, it was time to reconsider his career choice.

* * *

 **AN: The mid-aged Nord is Klimmek, who appeared in chapter 5. Just a side note, the chest in front High Hrothgar is empty because Saitama carry the supply inside.**

 **Agmaer is the guy you encounter outside of Dawnguard Fort, and run along with you to join in.**

 **And I did count how many vampires and thralls are in the cave in the previous chapter, twice, in game. So hopefully it's correct.**


	23. §2: Beyond the Blessings of Nature

A group roamed the wilderness in the southern part of the Eastmarch.

The land seemed barren, with only sparse plants scattered on the unfertile soil, and small sulfurous pools dotted the area emitting fetid steam. The landscape was relatively flat for Skyrim, but with occasional stone crags rising here and there. No treaded trail could be found in this region, perhaps because of the solidity of the earth or because of the lack of travelers.

The sight of this group was particularly conspicuous on this desolated land. More so, for the fact the group would intimidate any other passerby.

Although the one lead the band was a bald Breton who strolled casually, clothing in civilian attire and looking extremely unthreatening, the same could not be said for the rest of his companions.

Closely behind the Breton, a well-armed blond Nord with a stern demeanor followed. The most mind-boggling part of the group, however, was the eight vampires and one werewolf trailing after the two. This many accursed creatures roving in the broad daylight along with two humans – it was a feat unheard and almost impossible. Yet it was happening.

This was the group of Saitama.

And their current short-term objective was to find an appropriate _cave_.

After the incident in Ivarstead, which unsettled a whole town of people through Sinding's untimely transformation, and the passing out of a man scarred by the werewolf form, the band acknowledged traveling with a werebeast for a long distance was not such a good idea, even when the beast could not directly harm anyone.

The best solution they reached was to search for a place where the werewolf could perched temporarily, and return to him later when the cure was acquired.

Because of the dangerous nature of werewolf, this place must be secluded from the population of Skyrim. This was where the cave came in. After all, Skyrim was a province full of caves.

It did not take long for them to find one.

The gang of eleven ventured in without hesitation, in hope of resuming their journey towards Winterhold as soon as possible.

* * *

 **Eldergleam Sanctuary, Eastmarch**

While the exterior of the Eldergleam Sanctuary appeared to be a typical cave, the interior was anything but ordinary.

When first entering the cave, a tortuous tunnel lied before the eyes of the travelers, granting an illusion of a normal dungeon. Nevertheless, after the final bend of the narrow corridor, the terrain suddenly expanded into the main cavern – a place truly worthy of the title of sanctuary.

The cavern was enormous, large enough to accommodate a town inside. On the dome aloft, chasms and orifices tapped to the outside world, and the natural light leaked through them, flooding the area in a soft haze. While small sulfurous ponds strewn in clusters, the rest of the ground was covered in green. Lush pasture, scrubby bushes and straight pines basked in the filtered sunlight, deluding the visitors into believing it was not a cave, but a forest. In a sense, it was. Cool streams flowed from the top of the cavern and passed by the thriving greeneries, gurgling pleasantly as if praising the splendor of the underground grove.

At the inner part of the cavern, upon an uplifted turf, a gigantic tree dwelled, overlooking the entire sanctuary. On the branches of the tree, light fuchsia flowers blossomed. The thick roots of the plant spread far and wide in the cave, clinging to the stone and earth alike. This ancient and majestic tree was the Eldergleam Tree, from which the sanctuary gained its epithet. Allegedly, it was the oldest living thing in Skyrim, blessed by the goddess Kynareth, the strongest of the Sky spirits.

Kynareth, or Kyne as the Nords called her, was one of the nine divines - the deity of the heavens, the winds, the elements, and the unseen spirits of the air. People viewed her as the embodiment of nature, and her temple as a place of healing.

The Eldergleam Tree and the Sanctuary it resided were both considered sacred by the worshipper of Kynareth, drawing devout pilgrims to visit.

And the group could see a couple of pilgrims rested in the grove, bathing in the beauty of nature.

Even though the worshippers had taken notice of this formidable gang, casting wary glare towards them, none was panicking, for the werewolf had return to his human shape upon accessing the cave and the vampires remained discreet.

Sinding, no longer in his wolf form, felt somehow more peaceful and relieved than before in this grove. And the magnificent sight made the man eager to stay. But he understood this place was not suitable for his temporary shelter, as there were regular people inhabited here.

Sure enough, the bald Breton leading the group, Saitama, spoke up, seemingly unmoved by the scenery surrounding him, but disappointed at the notion they had to find another cavern. "It looks like this cave is already taken. Let's get out and try the next one."

"I think that man looks familiar." Genos did not followed the topic of his teacher. Instead, the spellsword pointed at the other side of the cavern, near the Eldergleam Tree, where two men were arguing.

One of them looked like a warrior, wearing a matched set of steel armor and wielding an ebony dagger in his hand.

The other was a civilian, possibly a pilgrim or monk, who was clothed in non-combat outfit and weaponless, but with an attitude of refusing to back down.

Although Saitama did not recognize either of the men, he chose to intervene because the debate was rather heated and with a chance to develop into a fight. A conflict like this could not end well for the civilian, especially when the warrior was swinging his blade menacingly around the unarmed man. If the physical conflict broke out, there would bloodshed.

As the group came closer to the debating duo, they heard the pilgrim talking.

"You would violate this marvel of Kynareth's glory to fix that half-breed stump in Whiterun?" The man exclaimed. "That's abominable. Barbaric. I'll have no part of this."

"What's going on here?" Saitama asked the two men in dispute.

The men seemed intending to dismiss the intrusion at first, but paused when noticing the eleven people in front of them.

The warrior, who Genos' had been addressing earlier and would later recalled as someone they had once encountered on the road to Haemar's Shame, came to his sense before the pilgrim and replied, complaining. "The Kynareth priestess in Whiterun asked me to fix the Gildergreen tree. The tree withered after a lightening strike. And in order to do that, I need to use Nettlebane to clear the path and acquire the tree sap from Eldergleam. But this man won't let me do my job."

"This is outrageous! For one, this Nettlebane is a dagger created by hagravens to sacrifice spriggans, who are Nature's Guardians. Using it on the sacred land of Kynareth is already an unforgivable defilement!" The angry pilgrim took a deep breath before continuing. "And now you are cutting the Eldergleam's root with it? You want to carve into the bark and extract the sap? Such profanation is unacceptable."

"It's about tree protection, huh…" Saitama muttered, staring at the pilgrim. "You are from Bark Brotherhood?"

The pilgrim remained silent confusing about the name of the faction, yet the adventure's eyes narrowed at it.

The adventurer inquired. "Dark Brotherhood? What does it have to do with that shady organization?"

With the ever-lasting boredom on his face, Saitama replied, "I got the impression those guys are obsessive about saving trees. Willing to get into a fight for it even."

The adventure was doubtful, since the Brotherhood was a notorious group of assassins. Before he could asked for details, Genos queried first. "Sensei, how do you know the Dark Brotherhood are fighting for plant protection?"

"I've met one of them." Saitama thought the _plant_ part was obvious from the title of _Bark_ Brotherhood, and decided to explain the _fighting_ part. "The guy had lots of weapon and was passionate about combat."

Genos, however, misunderstood it as Saitama had learned the _plant_ part from the encounter with an assassin. "I see. Then it must be true. I didn't know that aspect of the Dark Brotherhood."

The suspicious expression of the adventurer slowly faded, when he saw the affirming looks on the faces of the eleven persons, who were _following_ Saitama after all.

An individual was often affected by the mentality of a herd. In the end, along with the suspicion, the insistence of the adventurer also dissipated, as the man seriously considered the possibility that the pilgrim was somehow connected to the faction of assassins.

Though the warrior still refuse to give up easily, his attitude softened. "I don't necessarily have to cut the tree. But I don't want to disappoint the priestess either."

The pilgrim was pleased at the compromise of the adventurer. "Well… I have an idea. It won't repair the tree back at the temple, but we could bring them a new one."

With that being said, the pilgrim jogged to the Eldergleam, knelt before it, and prayed. To the amazement of the adventurer, the tree answered to the prayer and granted a sapling.

Then the pilgrim urged the warrior to take the sapling back as a renewal of the Gildergreen tree.

* * *

After the warrior left the cave but before the eleven people set out again, Sinding suddenly thought of a likelihood.

Perhaps the peacefulness he had felt in the sanctuary came from more than the marvelous scene. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that this grove was the worship site of Kynareth.

Although both Kynareth and Hricine were related to hunt in the mortals' perception, Kynareth was the goddess of nature, and werewolves were the results of Hircine twisting the nature – the nature of Nirn and the nature of human.

Kynareth was appeased by the hunting attributed to the respect of nature, while Hircine was amused at the thrill and the reshaping of nature regarding the hunt.

In a sense, the force of Kynareth and the power of Hircine were opposing each other in their ways of work and in their background concepts. Sinding now could see it.

On an impulse, the man with beastblood ran to the pilgrim, who was already stepping away, and blocked his path.

"Pray for me please." Sinding requested, with desperation and sincerity seeping through his hoarse voice. "If the holy tree of Kynareth was willing to hear your prayer, perhaps Kynareth herself would as well."

The pilgrim halted mid-step, frowning in perplexity. "What do you need me to pray for?"

Sinding's head hanged low, remembering the disrespectfulness of a damnable werewolf setting his foot on divine's sacred ground. He replied, nonetheless. "I am a werewolf. It's my shame. And I wish to be cured."

The pilgrim had wanted to blame Sinding's audacity, yet was moved by his genuineness. "Very well. But if it does not work, you will not be accepted here with that accursed blood, and should leave the sanctuary immediately."

Just like a miracle, it did worked. As soon as the prayer to the goddess ended, the beastblood inside Sinding took form of a giant wolf spirit and left his body. The wolf-shaped phantom then slowly dissolved into nothingness after departing from its host.

Sinding felt the joy overwhelming him at the nullification of Lycanthropy as the bloodlust of the beast disappeared from his mind, even if the method was somewhat anticlimactic.

Of course, Sinding would not have known this recovery was much harder than it seemed, and involved much more than a blessing from divine.

The grace of the goddess was but a final straw, which was added to the crucial matter that the influence of Hircine was waning. And the two factors together broke the camel's back, or in this case, the curse of werewolf.

The diminishing of Hircine's power did not come effortless, for it was rare and almost impossible to see a _punch_ that was mighty enough to destroy half of the Daedric Prince's realm even without a direct hit. In reality, such an occurrence was unheard throughout the lengthy history of Nirn.

And the true elements of this cure would remained unknown to the rest of the mortals.

On the other hand, some _untrue_ information flowed among the mortals of Skyrim. From the words of an adventurer, a rumor about the Dark Brotherhood began to spread.

A rumor stating Dark Brotherhood was not only a group of assassins, but actually also an organization of environmentalists, who secretly worshipped Kynareth in addition to Sithis, and devoted their lives at the protection of the trees.

* * *

 **AN: I just cured Lycanthropy randomly, but feel it makes so much sense:)**

 **Another thing I'll note here is that many quests in Skyrim are unsuitable for someone like Saitama, our dragonborn. So I figure the quest givers have to find someone else they deem appropriate for the jobs. The adventurer in this chapter is such an example - a non-important-to-the-main-plot side character, but he did appear in ch 20. When going through the Tree Quest in Skyrim game, you acquire Nettlebane in Orphan Rock – a valley you can get into by turning left on the way from Helgen to Haemar's Shame. Saitama's group ran into the adventurer when the adventurer had gotten Nettlebane and was returning to Whiterun to see the priestess. Not that Saitama would remember the man, of course.**

 **Oh, and the next scene I planned requires some consideration. I am thinking about a temporary first person perspective of a minor character, a flashback scene (a technique I have used before), both or none of above. The first person view is likely a one-time thing, and is due to my reluctance at naming the character or giving any definitive description about the person. Also because I kinda want to try the perspective out. So what do you guys think? Will it be weird? I am guessing it might be…**


	24. §2: An Adventurer Unlike You

**AN: Be warned. The later part of this chapter is in first person narrative, and hopefully it's readable. And that minor OC is the overthinking type.**

 **p.s. Since a question was asked by a guest account, I think I'll reply here. TBH, I haven't decide whether to actually kill a Daedric Prince, and I have no idea how to do it properly either. Mainly because that was never recorded in the series, I believe. If I destroy a Daedra along with the world it resides, will he return to Void and come back later? If a Daedric Prince loses all his power, can we say he is** _ **dead**_ **in the sense that he cannot be called Daedric Prince anymore? When someone in TES is killed and with one's soul dispelled/trapped and spent/whatsoever, is there a chance this someone could come back somehow? Why do these questions sound oddly like a discussion in philosophy and existentialism?**

 **So yeah, in short, the author don't know.**

 **p.p.s. I would suggest that if you have question to ask, log in before comment. Not because I dislike anonymous reviews or anything. I leave those too. And I won't stop you if you insist on doing so. The main reason for it is that I can PM you directly, and my answer can be more in depth. I seriously think my author's note is getting too long.**

* * *

Traveling in a group of ten people was not a fast experience. Yes, ten people, not eleven, since Sinding had left.

After the Lycanthropy was cured in the Eldergleam Sanctuary, the once werewolf decided to stay at the grove and devote himself as a worshiper of Kynareth – the goddess that had granted his wish, at least so Sinding thought. Moreover, Sinding along with the other devotees at the scene had regarded the pilgrim who prayed for him as a priest of Kynareth, since such a miracle was the clear proof of Kynareth's admission of the man.

Nonetheless, to the disappointment of Saitama, the vampires could not be treated with the same method. Some suspected it was due to the less obvious conflict between vampirism and Kynareth's blessing, for while werewolves were the perversion of Mother Nature, the vampires were simply undead.

As expected, no one could tell for sure the reason to the healing and unhealing - not without understanding that the Daedric Prince behind Lycanthropy was weaken, yet the one behind Vampirism unweakened.

Therefore, it was all guessing works, to which Saitama held no interest. At least everything went as their initial plan, which was to find an appropriate cave and put Sinding there.

Revealing there were eight vampires in the group also caused the pilgrims in the grove to expel them. Vampires were usually unwelcomed in most part of Tamriel, let alone a sacred sanctuary of divine. So Saitama, Genos and the eight vampires moved on without the ex-werewolf, who announced that he would be praying to the Kynareth for the rest of the group, especially Saitama and Genos as his thanks.

That was how the number of people in the group had decreased by one, and why the group had set out again to search for cure of Vampirism.

Still, a group of ten individuals was too large to be agile. The journey towards Winterhold seemed to take forever in Saitama's opinion.

It would be ridiculous to accidentally stray off from such a conspicuous and slow moving crowd, especially when being the one _leading_ the way.

But Saitama somehow managed to do just that. He was not quite sure whether he was the one who got lost, or it was the others were wandering away from him. Either way, they got separated, and Saitama was currently standing _alone_ at the end of the stone bridge towards Windhelm, pondering what he should do next.

Sheesh… He did not have much experience in traveling with others, not to mention finding his companions.

And now, Saitama had to search for the vampires so he could continue searching for the cure for the vampires… He was starting to feel a headache.

Maybe he could pretend nothing happened, forget about the vampires and his uninvited student, and go home, as these _problems_ he got had all _disappeared_ by themselves.

No, that would be too irresponsible.

So the question persisted. What was he going to do looking for his _problems_?

Perhaps he should actually stay on this spot and waited for the _problems_ to come to him. It seemed that many problems were inclined to come to Saitama lately. And the reason the group split might be Saitama went ahead too far.

If waiting did not work, Saitama figured he would go straightly to the destination, Winterhold, and meet his companions there. They would arrive sooner or later – hopefully sooner.

Saitama then rested at the side of the road and waited, feeling extremely bored during this humdrum time.

After a lunch consisting of some dry food and jerky and a bowel movement out of the blue, Saitama decided it was time to move on.

It was at this moment, someone found Saitama. However, this someone was not one of the people Saitama expected, but a complete stranger.

* * *

Traveling near the Windhelm stable, I stop and find a rock with leveled surface. Then from my backpack, I take out a journal to record the journey so far in case I forget more details.

* * *

 _Page 86_

 _Note to self_ _: I should probably write these things down earlier, but got too carried away the things happened these days and let my habit slip. This is not good, since every detail in my adventures will be valuable to my future biography. And when the whole Skyrim recognize me as the most important man in the fourth era (I am sure they will), my stories are better circulated correctly. So_ _REMEMBER TO DOCUMENT THE EVENTS CONSTANTLY_

 _Quest Progress_

 _I found the man I was looking for._

 _And I have a good feeling this assignment will go well. It is, after all, the first quest in my adventurer career that is worthy of someone of my talent._

 _It is absolutely ridiculous. Even with my flawless fighting skill, I could only get those stupid delivery jobs from town to town after I became an adventurer one year ago. I once thought being an adventurer would bring me all the wealth and glory I have ever dreamed about, yet I was wrong. All I could get is a lengthy list of insignificant and low-paid tasks._

 _This task, however, is different from the petty ones, and will likely become something truly great. Finishing a task for a Daedric Lord will definitely be a notable deed. And if I do it right, the reward will certainly be handsome._

 _It may sound surreal, but I got this assignment by reading a book - a book titled Boethiah's Proving._

 _To be honest, I am not a Daedra worshipper, and probably never will be one. But I have some general concepts regarding how those beings work and don't mind get my hands dirty for them. Especially when it have something to do with a Daedric Prince – a deity powerful enough to create and hold a world all alone. I believe to be a great adventurer who will going down in history, the most important point is to do the things that will be remember. Therefore, I will take any worthy opportunity I can get, even if it is related to a Daedric Prince that is considered evil in most part of Tamriel._

 _It started as a farfetched shot, and I did conjecture it would turn out to be a wild goose chase. I went through with it any way, and followed what the last paragraph of the book said, searching for Boethiah on the mount which overlooks Windhelm, even though I did not feel the calling of the Daedroth in the way the paragraph specified._

 _Imagine my surprise when I was actually granted a quest from Boethiah. Not granted directly from Boethiah herself, of course. It was a priestess that gave me the assignment._

 _Of course I took it. As long as they do not try to convert me into one of the cultists, it will be fine. I have no intention to spend the rest of my life in mountains or something like that. I have heard that the champions of the Daedric Princes are usually roaming freely without more intervention from the Princes. And those champions were sometimes adventurers that chosen by the Daedric Princes after finishing the quest given to them. This implies I have a good chance of becoming one._

 _The reward and title from a Daedric Prince? I surely can use them._

 _From what I have gathered about the Daedric Prince before I set out for her shrine, Boethiah is the Lord of deceit, conspiracy, treachery and sedition. Hence, I suppose it makes sense this quest is about trickery – to lure a man to the shrine with whatever words necessary._

 _After I bring the man there, I should sacrifice him on the altar to complete the ritual. At least that is my understanding of the priestess' speech. Who the man truly is or whether he deserves such a fate? The priestess did not said, and I dared not to ask. All the priestess gave me is a vivid description of the specific man I need to find, the name, and oddly enough, a drawing of the man's appearance._

 _The man must be somehow important to warrant a sketch from a cult._

 _Possibly, I will find out soon._

* * *

That will do.

I put my journal away, pack it with my writing tools, and turn my gaze towards the target.

Was the man really important as I suspected? Now with the man standing right before me, I don't see anything impressive.

Rummaging through my belongings and pulling out the sketch, I examine it carefully.

 _Breton, checked._

 _Around the age of twenties, checked._

 _Shining bald head, checked._

 _Vacuous dull eyes, checked._

Everything is checked.

And there is the general direction the priestess offered regarding the man's position, which also seems correct.

Then this man must be it – my target.

I thought the drawing of the man is unremarkable, but the man in person is even more so. No armor, no weapon, no wariness of his surroundings. He is Breton, so perhaps a mage? Probably not, I have not seen a mage this poverty-stricken.

It is hard to take a man in farmer's clothes seriously.

The question is, why Boethiah want me to bring this man. There must be a reason behind it. Perhaps staying cautious will be the better option?

A good plan is necessary. First, I should make a polite self-introduction and… No that is just unimportant detail. The most crucial part is to tell him why he should follow me. Threatening is probably a bad idea. Not that my capability in fighting is inadequate, it is just to be safe.

Then bribe it is. What will I bribe him with? That should probably be decided that after talking to the man, since I have no useful information on him other than his name and looks.

"Hey, why do you keep on staring at me?" The target have noticed me, and is currently glaring this way with that bland expression.

"Greetings!" I am playing as calm and friendly as I can. "Are you Saitama?"

"Yeah. Do I know you?"

"Not exactly. Someone asked me to find you." That was technically true. And what the man just said confirms his identity. Good. Now I need to get more information from the man, especially about what makes him tick.

Wait, he is holding something. "Is that a copy of Boethiah's Proving in your hand?"

"A copy of what?" The bald man seems confused. "You mean this book? I picked it up on the riverside. Is it yours?"

"No. But I have read that book once." This may be a great point of entry to get the man to the shrine. The man must know Boethiah from the text.

"Oh good. Because I ripped some pages from it when I couldn't find any toilet paper."

Hold on. Did I hear it right? The bald man used Boethiah's book as _toilet paper_? Is it possible Boethiah actually want this man smitten for his defiling actions?

Never mind. Stay focus on the quest. So talking about Boethiah probably will not work.

"You still haven't told who sent you and why." The Breton frowns, and must be getting inpatient.

Changing the topic was not effective. Worse still, he asked the question I couldn't answer truthfully.

Right. Try to deceive the man. Try to bribe him. Who could resist the temptation of valuable prize?

"I was sent by a mighty goddess. She favors you for your past deed and ordered me to lead you to her shrine, so she could reward you properly." Although this man most likely has not done anything worth the favor of a deity, a little flattering is always an icing on the cake. And while that is not completely true, part of it is, making the whole thing more convincing.

"Nah… I think I'll pass. That sounds too troublesome." The bald man is still expressionless, not even slightly impressed by my offer. "I got more pressing matter at the moment."

"What could be more important than a goddess' summoning?" I am asking what I am thinking at the reply. "You dare to ignore the calling of a deity?"

The man stares at me, as if seeing someone strange. "Whatever you are preaching, I am not interested."

Do I look like a priest? I glance down at my outfit. Anyone can see from my attire that I am a powerful warrior right? The two-handed weapon on my back is much telling?

Damn. The man is walking away, just like that.

Think. Think quickly before the mission fails completely. The man was standing there doing nothing before I approach, so maybe…

That is a long shot, but worth trying.

"Are you waiting for someone?" I yell as loud as I can to catch the man's attention. "Maybe I can help."

The Breton stops and turn towards me. "So you are one of those nosy guys."

"Yes. No." I am getting frustrated – why can't this man just react like a normal person? Like the ones I meet in other parts of the Skyrim. "I mean I might have seen the people you are waiting for."

The man seems to be considering what I just said. Good.

"Okay." The man shrug. "Did you see a group of nine people by any chance?"

"Yes, I did. Let me lead you to them."

I start to walk away, guiding the man. But the man is not following.

What was I thinking? I am acting way too zealous. The man's description is too vague. And I answered too fast and too firmly. The man must be suspicious. Perhaps the group he is waiting for is not even nine. It was just a trap for me to jump. And now the man knows I am lying. I messed up. What to do to remedy the situation? Damn. Can't think of a thing…

Oh, wait. The man is coming. Maybe he is just slow?

I let out a breath I did not know I was holding.

Good. I will just guide him readily to the mountain where the shrine lies. Then I will evaluate what to do one-step at a time.

If I am lucky, the man will not find anything suspicious.

* * *

 **AN: I regret my decision of making a first-person-present-tense part. It's harder than expected - getting into the head of a stranger, making sure scenes come out fluently, and avoiding to be too tedious…**

 **I hope I did not mess up too badly. And I just remember there will still be some first person paragraphs in the next chapter, if I want things to be consistent.**

 **So yeah, just bear with me for one more chapter.**


	25. §2: Liar Liars

**AN: Is it weird that I need to write more words in order to push the scenes forwards when writing in first person?**

 **Anyway, I reread my last chapter, and figure that maybe the most important problem lies in the bridging between the past tense and present tense in first person perspective part. Since it's only a minor role, I don't really want to put too many words on his background introduction and past tense is a must. So I decided to revise it a little, making the narrative more natural. (At least I think more natural, that is.)**

 **The other problem is in characterization. Again, it is hard for me to develop the character fully in such a short chapter, but I tried to make it a bit more clear in the revision.**

 **Overall, no big change story-wise in the rewriting. The only thing of note is the personality of the adventurer (which I hope I made it apparent enough) – an overthinking self-centered immoral prick that only interested in fame and reward.**

 **Finally, as I said, the first person part is getting a bit too long for my liking. My usual chapter is a little more than 2000 words, and to make something happen here, I wrote more than 3000. But I manage to finish it in this chapter. So the next one, the perspective will return to normal.**

* * *

Saitama was not surprised when the stranger did not lead Saitama to find Genos and the eight vampires, as the man claimed he would, but lead Saitama before a shrine in the mountains.

There were also some bandit-like cultists, or maybe cultist-like bandits, resided in the area, standing idly or sparring noisily.

Saitama had already found the man suspicious in their first conversation, for the man looked pretentious, tended to avoid certain topics and often made long pauses between the sentences.

Since the stranger was peculiarly eager to get Saitama to a goddess, Saitama did not expect the man to give up easily. So it made sense that all these were just a boring ruse.

From both what Saitama had heard and his personal experience, the god-like beings tended to give mortals some ridiculous tasks in exchange of some useless items. Moreover, Saitama once tried to sell one of those, but ended up being treated like a thief when the shop owner refused to believe Saitama got it through proper means. So Saitama was not at all interested in this reward from the goddess.

Then again, it did not hurt to check it out, at least for someone like Saitama. He could always reject the offer later.

Besides, if by following the stranger he could actually found his group, it would be great; if not, Saitama could always _run_ to Winterhold instead of walking. Therefore, this was a riskless bet, and Saitama had no reason not to take it.

Perhaps one reason – it was painful for Saitama to follow a man who walked slowly and fidgeted nervously.

Now the stranger stopped again, lost in his thought maybe.

Saitama decided to point out the obvious. "This is the shrine you want me to go, isn't it?"

* * *

"This is the shrine you want me to go, isn't it?"

That sentence from the bald man interrupted my thought, when I was considering how I could get him to touch the Pillar of Sacrifice, so Boethiah's magic would ensnare him.

Damn. This man has figured it out.

But he could not know of my intention to sacrifice him in the altar. So I still have chance.

To avoid his suspicious, look innocent is necessary.

"Oh my. Yes, indeed. I must have made the wrong turn."

I might have overdone it, since the bald man seems more suspicious than before.

"Uh-huh." The target stares at me blankly. "Just admit it. You have never seen my group, right?"

Damn. This man has figured out more than I expected. How should I play this? At least he is not angry, is he? Or maybe he has facial paralysis condition?

"No. Sorry. I haven't seen them." I force my most sincere apologetic expression. Honesty here would be better, in case he should ask me to describe the group. "But this matter is of utmost most importance. Since you are already here, you ought to talk to the goddess. It won't take long."

The bald ignores my pleas and tries to walk away again, but this time I rush in and stand on the path leading down the mountain, blocking his way.

I am so close to get this done. Giving up now will just be stupid. Failure on such critical mission in my career is not acceptable.

Do whatever it takes.

Leveling a glare that matches his, I unsheathe my great sword on my back and point it at the man. "Go touch the pillar and talk to the goddess, or else…"

The man narrows his eyes, more menacing than ever. "Are you threatening me?"

The atmosphere around the man thickens, and I shudder at that. My heart is pounding hard when I meet the man's eyes.

The two handed weapon is trembling with my hand. Why does it feel so heavy?

Is this feeling… fear?

By Talos! This cannot be right. How is this possible?

No, no, no. I am overreacting, or just imagining things. There is nothing terrifying about this man. He is just an unarmed civilian, nothing more.

But if he is the one Boethiah specifically wants…

Damn. Should have stuck to my initial plan of playing it safe.

There is only one method left…

Losing face is not of my concern at the moment.

Immediately, I drop my sword and go down on my knees. "Please don't leave. I beg of you. You must activate the pillar. Or the goddess will be mad at me."

"Hey. Don't you think your attitude changes a little too fast? A big man crying like this is embarrassing…" The bald man sighs. "Fine. Whatever. I'll do it as long as it's quick."

Yes! I got him. All of the hard works are paying off. And the task will be accomplished flawlessly. Boethiah will definitely reward me greatly for my effort and this will be a giant step to fame and glory.

I jump to my feet when the man turns around to face the pillar.

The Breton looks to the altar. "You said activate the pillar. It's a pillar. How do I activate it?"

"That is easy. Just put your hand on it. Then the goddess will speak to you."

Good. The man follows what I said, walks to the pillar, and put his hand on it.

It is done. I have finished the most difficult parts of my quest, the only thing left to do is…

"It's not working. Where is that goddess you are talking about?" The bald man retracts his hand from the stone as nothing happens. "If she is not coming, I'm leaving."

What does he mean _it's not working_? This is not right. He should be trapped by the magic of Boethiah, not walking away unharmed. The pillar does not look activated either, standing there lifelessly.

So I put my right hand on the pillar.

 _I should not have put my right hand on the pillar._

Damn. The pillar and the carving patterns below it are glowing _now_?

This is very bad. I can't pull my hand away from it.

There is something, some invisible force, dragging my whole being towards the pillar - a strong and irresistible force.

And I am stuck with my back against the pillar and arching backwards as all of my limbs pull back. My foot is also off the ground.

This is very very bad.

Worse still, no word escapes my mouth when I try to talk.

This is not supposed to happen. I am the one luring the prey, and the bald man is the sacrifice. Why did I end up trapped by the pillar?

Damn. I messed up.

Or maybe… this was Boethiah's plan all along…

She is the Daedric Prince of deception… So maybe I am the one to be deceived?

This bald man… What is his relation with Boethiah?

"Is this normal?" The man blinks at me, confusion on his face.

Perhaps he really has no idea what is going on. This means he probably is not on the side of Boethiah. So maybe I still have a chance to survive.

The bald man frown at me. "Hey. Are you listening to me?"

Yes, I can hear you, but the magic of Boethiah has stolen my voice. And I cannot speak or ask for help.

The bald man inspects the pillar without touching it. "I think the pillar is broken."

Then he picks up something on the ground.

Wait. That is the Blade of Sacrifice, with which I am supposed to strike down the man when he is stuck on the pillar.

 _Like the way I am now._

Oh no.

The bald man waves the dagger. "Is this yours? It's called Nettlebane, right?"

What? What Nettlebane? What is this man talking abou…

There! The priestess, the priestess who sent me to kill, is coming up too.

Is she here to convince the man to kill me with that blade?

I don't want to die, I am too young, and my career has just started. This will be a tremendous loss to the whole Tamriel! I can't die here! I am sorry I lied to you. Please don't kill me…

"Hey. You know what's wrong with this pillar?" The bald man is facing the priestess.

 _Everything is wrong. Everything…_

"Nothing is wrong. You are chosen by our Lord." The priestess is looking at the bald man solemnly. "Now, drive the blade firmly into the heart of the sacrifice, and our Lord shall reward you."

I close my eyes, feeling my face wet with something – something salty by the taste. Am I crying?

"What? Why are you cultists so violent? No. I don't think killing the man will solve the problem. Breaking a pillar does not entitle a death sentence. You see, the problem is with the pillar. Do you have some tools or magic that can fix it?"

I open my eyes at the man's words, and feel less nervous.

So the man does not intend to kill me.

He just wants to fix the pillar I broke. That doesn't really make any sense.

Hold on, even if the man does not strike me down, there is still a cult around. They can easily kill the bald man and me with their superior numbers.

If only I can warn the man…

The man and the priestess are currently glaring at each other in silence. Something bad is about to happen, isn't it…

What is that?

There were always noises coming from the lower part of the mountain, where lies the fighting pit we passed by. But this time it is different. It is much louder.

I cannot see what is happening from this angle, stuck on this blasted pillar.

The priestess is running down the hill, probably to check out the din.

The bald man… the bald man is unaffected, and is looking at me again. "I think she is going for the equipment to repair the column. Just hang in there."

The probability that the priestess is looking for equipment is lower than the probability that this bald man is a… is a Dragonborn.

There is nothing wrong with the pillar, alright? I just made a mistake of touching it.

Wait. In that case, the pillar cannot be _fixed_ … Does it mean I will be trapped here until someone kills me or I starve to death? Things are never going to turn good for me, aren't they. This is…

Someone is coming up again, not the priestess. No, there were more than one person – it is a group. It is not the cult I saw earlier either.

And the noises downhill have died down also.

The blond Nord leading the group stops in front of the bald man. "Sensei, we finally found you. We were asking around everywhere, and the owner of a stable near Windhelm gave us the direction you went. We did a blanket search and eventually arrived at this place."

So they know each other?

Hold on. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, nine persons. This must be the group the bald man was seeking. It would also explain why they look nothing like the cultists.

The cultists, where are they now?

"Oh. Genos you guys are here. That will save me some troubles." The bald man does not seem too excited about finding his companions. "Did you see a bandit-like priestess down there looking for tools?"

Bandit-like priestess. Sounds weird but quite precise… And she is most likely not looking for tools.

"No." The blond looks serious. "We only took out a group of bandit-like cultists because they attacked us without warning."

Does it mean I am saved? With the cult demolished. But I am still stuck here…

The bald man suddenly point his finger at the only path leads here. "Never mind. The priestess is coming up."

The priestess is somewhat different. Her stance is more stiff and steady than before, and…

" _ **The priestess is no more. I am called Boethiah. Many names have mortals given me. But I am not interested in names. I am interested only in deeds. Your deed is more than interesting…"**_

 _By the Eight! It's Bo- Boethiah._

Her voice makes me shiver even when she is only talking through the priestess' corpse. And why does she sound so ominous… so venomous? Especially with that last sentence.

Oh, the bald man used her book as toilet paper. That is probably why.

We are all going to die, aren't we.

"Boethiah." The blond newcomer knows the name. "The Daedric Prince of deceit, conspiracy, treachery and sedition."

Then he should know the best option now is to beg for her mercy, though it probably will not work, since Boethiah is not merciful…

" _ **You desecrated my books, drew those Molag Bal's despicable creatures to my altar, and decimated my worshippers. How dare you, little mortal? I should slay you for such insolence!"**_

Books? The man destroyed more than one book of Boethiah?

And Molag Bal's creatures… What does she mean?

Wait, the eight hooded persons following the blond… They are vampires, aren't they…

What are these men thinking?! Molag Bal and Boethiah are rivals! Adversaries!

 _Why on Nirn would someone think it is a good idea to bring a group of vampires to the Sacellum of Boethiah!_

"Okay… " The bald man blinks blandly at the thrall of Daedroth, as if not noticing the severity of the situation. "Maybe you should calm down, and fix your pillar first… There is man stuck on it."

 _The man stuck on it_ is now willing to settle for a painless and quick death… Oh, Boethiah enjoys the suffering of mortals…

" _ **Your fearlessness is foolish, out of naivety. But your will is strong and your prowess remarkable. It's something I can use. And I shall grant you pardon for a proving. My previous champion displeases me, using my gift for his own amusement. It is time he is replaced – in the traditional fashion."**_

The bald man stays quiet, maybe confused at the Daedra's offer.

The blond Nord is not. "Sensei, I believe she is making an exchange. She wants us to do something about that champion. In return, she will fix the pillar."

No… I don't think that is what she means.

"But I am not the one who broke it!" The bald man starts to protest. "She should ask the man on the pillar to pay for the reparation."

Please don't drag me into this…

"Besides, if it's true that she is some prince of deceit." The bald man is with a thoughtful look on his face. "How should we know she is not lying to us?"

That… actually makes some sense, probably should have thought of that before I took this assignment…

However, at this point, mortals do not really have choices before a goddess.

The blond taps his palm with his other fist. "You are truly insightful, sensei. She could be lying to us all along! Maybe she has no intention to carry out her deal. Maybe the deal is lure us into a trap. Maybe she is not displeased at her champion at all. Maybe her blame on your insolence is but a ruse. Maybe she is not interested in you from the beginning. Or maybe she is not Boethiah, but actually the priestess."

What? The blond cannot be serious.

" _ **Oh the follies of the mortals. The dimness of your wit prevents you from perceiving the true greatness. For I am the one they call Boethiah, and Boethiah am I."**_

The blond man is not paying attention to the Daedroth. "But if she were not Boethiah, she is not the Prince of deceit and was likely not lying to us. No, it is still possible that she is not Boethiah, and is serving Boethiah. Then it would make sense that she is lying to us because the Daedra told her to. And now she is deceiving us into believe she is Boethiah…"

That does not make sense at all. Why would Boethiah command her worshipper to do that?

On a second thought, most of the things Daedric Princes did don't really have good reasons. They just did them for amusement.

So if Boethiah is amused in deception, maybe she did order the priestess?

If that is the case, the priestess has some brilliant acting skill.

The blond man seems to be the talkative type. "… If the one talking to us is a priestess ordered by Boethiah to convince us she is Boethiah herself, it is still possible that Boethiah was also lying to her priestess. However, since the priestess worship a Daedra of deceit, how do we know she was telling us the truth about admiring deception? She is possibly lying about being a liar. Then she is not a liar. Then she is telling the truth. But the truth is she is a liar, so she must be a liar. How can she be not a liar and a liar at the same time? Then… "

My head… It hurts… What is the man talking about? The complex logic here is so perplexing…

"Genos! Stop!" Thankfully, the bald man cut in. "Get to the conclusion."

The blond pauses and lower his head, perhaps deducing his conclusion.

What can he possibly get from this lengthy line of thought?

" _ **Your impudence will not be forgotten, mortals."**_

The blond levels his eyes towards the bald man again, ignoring the priestess yet again. "I believe the altar is ownerless."

What? How did he get that conclusion?

"Oh. Alright." The bald man… He is agreeing?

Wait. Why is the bald man coming towards me?

He walks past me and stops behind me at a place out of my eyesight.

What is he doing?

A loud thump comes from my back, along with the violent tremor of the pillar.

A waft of cool air meet my sweaty back, and I fall down to the ground on my all fours.

What just happened?

I turn my newly freed head around to check the situation. The pillar is gone. The only thing in the place it once stood is a clutter of shattered stone.

The bald man broke it? How? He does not even have any weapon on him.

And now the group is stepping away. But the priestess is blocking the path.

" _ **Don't overstep your position, mortals. I shall send my..."**_

The later part of the priestess' speech is interrupted by the bald man as he shoves the woman aside.

"Stop the role playing, priestess." The bald man does not halt, leading his group with him. "You should really get a better hobby other than lying to people and trying to scare them."

Pushing myself up from the ground and ignoring the stiffness caused by freezing in position, I scramble after the departing group.

Staying here is definitely a bad idea. It does not matter who the woman is - a priestess or Boethiah herself, she surely gives me the creeps.

Daedric Princes and their followers are all bizarre and menacing. Their quests? I'll pass in the future. It's not worth risking my life.

And probably the same goes for the quests with deception… For my body still trembles from being deceived and my head still aches from considering the blond's words…

Trailing behind the group down hillside trail, I can hear the blond Nord keeps talking. "… Since Boethiah is the Daedric Prince of treason. Maybe she is pleased at her champion for betraying her, which is the greatest treason a cultist could ever done. Maybe she even nominated the person as champion because of the betrayal… "

Please stop…

Just don't listen to him, and I will be fine. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't…

...

* * *

There were some other people listening and thinking about what Genos said.

As it turned out, part of the cult did survive this unexpected disaster falling upon them. And some of the survivors managed to overhear fragments of the conversation taking place around the shrine and witness the destruction of the altar.

While some of the cultists considered this as the ultimate disrespect to their lord, and believed wholeheartedly that Boethiah was speaking through the priestess, the others took the scene as a sign.

The result was a division in the cult.

The former resumed their old ways of worshipping Boethiah, yet the latter felt the need to overhaul their method.

The cultists supporting change had a central idea – the shattering of the altar and the safe departure of the intruders were both evidences given by Boethiah, and though the group of strangers that smacked them down did not follow Boethiah, their words were admitted by the Daedroth. The priestess was indeed pretending to be their goddess, and such action was approved by Boethiah as an admirable deception. The betrayal of the champion of Boethiah was actually the best exemplar of treason. The above two deeds were the pinnacle of worshipping and should be done by a cultist when the person truly readied oneself.

Much later, the two sects would become rival and fight violently for another trait of Boethiah was her favor in destruction. And the culprits of this great division would remain unknown of what they had done, since they had more pressing matters to do.


	26. §2: A Stroll on the Ice

**AN:Last chapter? Genos was just being _honest_ about his suspicious...  
**

* * *

One whole day after the incident in Sacellum of _Boethiah_ , the group of ten arrived at the Winterhold city.

The strange man who got himself stuck on the pillar had scampered away from the group after getting down from the mountain. And Saitama was glad the guy did not try to tag along like some other strange people – he already had too many weird companions.

Although Winterhold was their destination, the group did not linger in the city. It was absolutely not ideal to let a gang of bloodthirsty vampires stay in a city for long. Besides, while Winterhold was titled a city, as opposed to a village, the settlement was nowhere near that scale, ever since the cataclysmic Great Collapse eighty years ago that had casted the most part of the city into the sea far down below. The city would not have sufficient space to accommodate this group.

Therefore, the band went further north and found a relatively flat ground near the Sea of Ghosts, where they set up their camps and rested. After the routine tasks were done, Genos was setting out to the College of Winterhold to collect more information on the curse of vampirism and its possible cure.

"You sure you can get in?" Saitama asked the blond. "You just stayed there for what? A couple of days? Then you disappeared for more than a month."

"Don't worry, sensei. I will find a way to get in." Genos was full of seriousness and determination. "I won't disappoint you."

"Al-right…" Saitama was not certain what did the man mean, but chose not to inquire the details. He did not really want to know.

"I will return in at most two days." With that, Genos left for the College.

It might be hard to believe, yet Genos actually enter the College of Winterhold without any trouble. No one in the school seemed to mind a student - who was always absent - to randomly show up only when he needed intelligence. Then again, this was Skyrim, and many customs here were weird. Not that Genos noticed it…

* * *

Another day had passed since Genos' departure.

Back at the camp, the vampires were doing whatever they usually did as a coven when living in a cave. Saitama, on the other hand, was getting exceedingly bored, as hanging lazily in a camp without anything to do was nice for a couple of hours at most.

At this point, Saitama considered sneaking into the College library again. While he did not really like reading long text, skimming through some books and browsing the rare drawing on them was an idea to pass time. However, Saitama decided against it, since in the daylight, the school was likely populated, library included. And the intrusion could cause Genos to get expel. Then the information could not be found. Then Saitama would be clueless about how to deal with these vampires.

So no trespassing. Besides, that was illegal.

Taking a stroll around was the only option Saitama could think of in order to ease his boredom. And it was what Saitama did.

Instead of going south into the city and immerging himself in the thought regarding the former glory of a once prosper settlement, Saitama chose to proceed the other direction. He was never someone good at appraising the grandeur of architectures, let alone imagining it. The city itself currently only consisted of four houses, and none of them interested Saitama. So north it was.

The north of Winterhold lied the Sea of Ghosts - vast waters adjacent to the north and northeast of Tamriel. The old legend said the ancestors of men came from the continent north to Skyrim, crossed the Sea of Ghosts, and arrived at Tamriel, where mers dwelled at that time. The migration had shaped the Tamriel today, whereas most of the history of that time was lost to the time, and the northern continent itself lost to the worsened climate. The memories were only held the by the ghosts, and the sea now belonged to the ghosts.

This was the Sea of Ghosts. If one were to describe the area with one word, it would be cold – bone chilling cold.

Above the water, floating icebergs and drifting ice floes scattered; deep below, ship wreckages and tangled seaweeds littered; in between, fishes shoaled and, according to stories, spirits resided as well.

Upon the pieces of ice afloat, a lone figure advanced. Although the man was a Breton – a race with certain degree of natural born magic immunity, his innate trait was incomparable to the one of a Nord, namely the resistance of freezing cold. The man did not carry any luggage with him, and his attire was not warm winter clothing, but light as if in the bathing in mild weather. Moreover, the man's clothes were soaking wet, as the wind was picking up and the temperature dropping.

This would be a lethal and hopeless situation for most Bretons, rendering their lives walking on a thin wire between life and death. Just not for this one, since this man was Saitama, who had just misstep and fallen into the water by accident. A regrettable accident.

Of course, the coldness did not worry Saitama at all. His clothes, however, did. Even though low temperature, roaring wind or sodden attire by itself alone would not become a problem for Saitama, all of them together would. Saitama already started to feel his clothes freezing up regardless his own body warmth. And frozen up clothes were rigid and susceptible to tearing when he moved around.

Saitama did not want to lose his clothes to the cold.

Therefore, he had only three options. No, actually two, since rushing in tremendous speed back to his camp would probably cause them to chill faster.

The first one was actually quite embarrassing. Saitama figured that if he took all of his clothes of before they froze and carried them in his hand, he would avoid ripping them up in his movement. Then he could heat them up after getting back to the camp. Though this idea was valid, it was extremely foolish, for there were at least eight people back at his camp and they would likely view him as crazy.

The second was much better and was applicable thanks to Saitama's luck. A cave was not far from him, and Saitama could stay there temporarily until his clothing dried up or the wind halted.

Without any hesitation, Saitama took the second option.

The cave was on a small isle covered in ice, with a slanting wooden hatch blocking the entrance. Two torches next to the entryway along with a boat lying around indicated the cave was habited. But at this point, Saitama could not care for those, and quickly charged in the cave after swinging open the unlocked hatch.

Saitama let out a breath of relief when he was finally inside the windless cavern. It was at this point he figured out there was already someone inside, possibly the resident. Nevertheless, Saitama did not understand why anyone would prefer to live in such a secluded place, where no one passed by and was far from other settlements. Then he remembered a group of lonely old men called Greybeards and concluded strange people were everywhere in Skyrim.

Still, intruding a place without greeting the owner did not seem right, and Saitama decided he should venture further and explain his intention.

Like most of the caves, this one also started with a winding tunnel from the entrance, which lead to a large cavity. The cave did not consist of maze-like trails, but had a grand central chamber, where the only path spiraled down.

In the middle of the chamber stood – not surprisingly – an old man. Saitama noted there were lots of lonely old fellows living in isolation around Skyrim. Without other reconsiderations, Saitama walked down the slope and met the elder.

"Excuse me. Is this your cave?"

* * *

At the encampment where the vampires sat, Vinoa was beginning to worry. Their temporary bald leader had gone for a stroll, but now she could see a storm was coming from the distance above the sea.

Vinoa did not quite comprehend why the Breton set out for a stroll on the floating ice above the waters. Wasn't that dangerous? Then again, she and her coven could not understand many decisions the two non-vampires made. As a matter of fact, the Boethiah incident yesterday was far beyond their apprehension and all of the bloodsuckers opt for staying quiet throughout the event. None of them wanted to be cursed by Boethiah in addition to Molag Bal. Those were practically two of the worst Daedric Princes existing. Nevertheless, things settled rather peacefully albeit confusingly.

Vinoa stopped herself from thinking more on that result, as every time she tried, she either hit a dead end or lost her head in dizziness. There was no point to repeat those mistakes. It was not as if she intended to become a scholar or an expert in Daedra. It would be a better idea to consider something more prompt, such as the unreturning of their companions. Actually, just one companion - Saitama, as the other man, Genos, was probably doing fine, sheltered by the protection of the College.

The bald man was strong, that much Vinoa knew. Nonetheless, the man was possibly the least cold enduring one of their group of ten, since Genos was a Nord and the rest were vampires – both with intrinsic frost resistance. At least, Vinoa could not connect physical strength and such trait.

To aggravate the situation, the coming weather seemed so bad that it would most definitely make a Nord slumber into hypothermia. Looking at the approaching black cloud and standing the heavy gale, Vinoa frowned deeply.

Perhaps she should gather some people to look for the Breton, before it was too late.

Silently, Vinoa prayed to the Nine that all was well with their companion.

* * *

It was _not_ well that the old man kept on talking nonsense, Saitama concluded.

So this old guy was not only weird, but crazy.

It was futile trying to tell the elder that Saitama was only here to dry up his clothes. On the bright side, the old man did not try to kick Saitama out. On the not-so-bright side, the man's mumbo jumbo could easily drive a person insane.

Saitama could only sighed while wondering why his clothes dry so slowly. And now he was feeling bored again – not that the previous stroll was much interesting. In fact, Saitama was so bored that he even wasted his mind on making out what the old man said. Well, not completely, of course, just more or less.

In Saitama's understanding, the old man was attempting to unlock the large bronze cube in the cavern, probably having lost his key or something. Since the elder apparently lived in this cave and the cube was too big for the man to carry around, Saitama supposed the it was either the old guy's possession or ownerless. Other than that, the name of the cube was Dwemer lockbox, and inside lied _the heart of a god_ , whatever that meant.

In the end, Saitama had enough of the gibberish and figured he should repay the old man for not expelling him.

"You want me to open it for you?" Saitama asked the old man, pointing at the giant cube. "I can help as long as you don't mind me breaking the box."

The mad man possibly did not entirely acknowledge Saitama's sentence, but got the concept that Saitama was willing to aid. "This Dwemer lockbox. Look upon it and wonder. Inside is the heart. The heart of a god! The heart of you. And me. But it was hidden away. Not by the Dwarves, you see. They were already gone. Someone else. Unseen. Unknown. Found the heart, and with a flair for the ironical, used Dwarven trickery to lock it away. The scroll will give the deep vision needed to open it. For not even the strongest machinations of the Dwemer can hold off the all-sight given by an Elder Scroll."

Saitama took it as the old man did not mind, since the man seemed only care about the content inside. And what was an elders' scroll anyway? As opposed to children's book? That was probably it - an elders' scroll was a scroll that the elders read.

Ignoring the more blather coming from the old guy, Saitama stepped in front of the box. He study the box for a bit, not at its intricate Dwemer patterns, but trying to find out where the door was. However, no sign was found.

Without any better idea, Saitama took the obvious course of action – he punched the box with only a fraction of his strength.

The surface of the cube gave out.

A long corridor appeared, leading into the deep interior of the cube, deeper than its outside appearance. The scene was somehow defying common sense, yet Saitama paid no mind to it, as he had already witnessed too many oddities in his journeys.

The old man stood aghast at the unconventional unlocking method, eyes wide with disbelief. It took almost a full minute for the man to recover, and in the meantime, Saitama enjoyed the lack of crazy talk.

Then the old man charged inside the box. Saitama slowly followed.

In the center of the box, a pedestal seated. Upon the pedestal, a book lied – a book that was broader and thicker than most books.

"What is this... it's... it's just a book?!" The elder was disappointed.

Although this was not _the heart of a god_ he was expecting, the old man still reached his hand towards the book.

However, before the man could touch it, another event occurred.

A big black blob with tentacles appeared out of nowhere, grabbed the book, and disappeared with it.

Saitama blinks a couple of times at the sight, and decided that was weird - at least a little weirder than the insane old man.


	27. §2: Discerning the Transmundane

Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of knowledge and memory, had been watching this Dragonborn, Saitama, for quite a while.

Moreover, the crazy old man - Septimus Signus had become a servant of the Daedroth, after quitting his College job, in his craving for knowledge and secrets. The man was eventually driven insane by the knowledge, through glimpsing the content of an Elder Scroll.

Therefore, Hermaeus Mora had taken notice of the full sequence of events, in which Saitama entered the caved, met Septimus, and _opened up_ the box.

And the Daedroth had no intention to repeat Boethiah's error.

He was not letting his book ended up as pillow, fuel or toilet paper.

While the book Boethiah's Proving was a not much different from a regular book, this book lying in the Dwemer lockbox was something more.

It was Oghma Infinium - a tome containing ancient knowledge granted by Mora and written by the scribe of Auri-El. An artifact belonged to Hermaeus Mora.

There was no way the Daedric Prince would let the bald man get his hand on it.

That was why Mora showed up in his avatar and recollected the book immediately after the lockbox was opened.

Now that his book was in safety, the Daedric Lord deemed this cave a perfect site to speak to the Dragonborn.

For the Prince was still curious in the strength of this mortal man – strength that was otherworldly, strength that was transmundane.

Therefore, a proper trial was imperative.

* * *

Saitama stared at the insane old man, who was currently crying like a child.

The old guy was mumbling something about his lord forsaking him, which mostly escaped Saitama's attention. And Saitama had no motive to inquire more.

After all, the old man was crazy.

Saitama did not want to comfort the old man either. Was it possible to comfort a total lunatic?

He was not even sure whether the man was weeping over the fact that the item inside the box was a book and not the heart, or the book was taken away by a tentacle monster. Either way, Saitama decided it had nothing to do with himself and he had done everything he could here.

It was time to retreat.

Well… retreat as close to the exit as he could, since his clothes were still not completely dry.

The plan was interrupted by the floating black blob of tentacles and eyes.

As Saitama approached the tunnel leading to the exit hatch, the blob was completely blocking his way.

And the blob could talk.

" _ **Come closer. Bask in my presence."**_

"No thanks." Saitama looked at the black mass, blankness on his face. "I don't want to stain my clothes."

The blob silenced for a few seconds before continuing its speech.

" _ **I am Hermaeus Mora. I am the guardian of the unseen, and knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal. Most impressive."**_

"Wait." Saitama frowned as he realized the implication of those sentences. "Are you stalking me too?"

The mass offered no answer to his question, but jump to the next subject.

" _ **You are searching for a cure. A cure for Vampirism. A cure I can offer you a clue on."**_

That caught Saitama's attention.

"Really?" Saitama was still skeptical about what could a blob possibly offer.

" _ **Yes. I ask no payment of you. Find the man in the Pelagius Wing of the Blue Palace, and he shall grant you what you seek. The only catch is you need to do it alone. What say you?"**_

"Which blue palace?"

* * *

Hermaeus Mora considered this a perfect scheme.

The bald man was peculiar, unknown.

Sending the mortal to another Prince would doubtlessly yield some interesting outcome; perhaps even illume the mystery of the man.

The Daedric Prince of choice was Sheogorath, the Lord of Madness, whose motives ultimately unknowable.

Pitting one unknown against another.

How appropriate.

And the whole arrangement was carried out flawlessly with the conversation in that cave.

There was only one minor hindrance during the discourse - the denseness of the man.

For someone with such prowess, the Dragonborn was voluminously ignorant, completely contradicting to what Hermaeus Mora represented – that with knowledge came true power.

How could someone living in Skyrim not know of the Blue Palace?

The Blue Palace was unquestionably one of the most renowned building in Skyrim, being the landmark of the capital and the highest government center in the province.

When speaking of _the Blue Palace_ , one would usually be referring to that specific place, rather than a general palace that happened to be blue – unlike when saying the Green Shack or the White House.

Hermaeus Mora was not satisfied at the Dragonborn's expression after the explanation.

The man's face was a completely blank, without any hint of understanding.

In the end, Mora gave the bald man an extremely detailed map regarding the destination. Upon the map, the objective and method were detailedly written down in text.

The key of the locked door to the Pelagius Wing was also granted, lest the mortal man should take other drastic procedures to enter.

The last item Mora had given was a special amulet, which when putting on at the right place could teleport the wearer into the mind of the target – the mind of Pelagius III, where Sheogorath currently resided.

All pieces were set.

Hermaeus Mora would simply sit back and watch.

* * *

The vampires had regrouped back at the camp, as their search of Saitama proved to be futile.

Vinoa had been the one suggested the search, and the search had been carried out by six of the group, leaving the last two guarding the camp.

However, the wind was growing stronger and the weather got worse. And the search team had no choice but gave up their task when the snow storm became too blinding – a person could not even see clearly an object within three feet. The coldness such snowstorm brought was too severe to the vampires as well.

Hence the withdrawal.

They had to wait until the tempest to cease.

When the storm finally died down, the vampires started a discussion about the further search.

Half way through the meeting, Vinoa noticed something out of the corner of her eyes, more precisely, someone.

That someone was running in impressive speed on the floating ice above the water, aiming at the group. The distance between the vampires and the man diminished rapidly, and Vinoa squinted as she recognized him. That was indubitably Saitama, the man they had been looking for.

"Thank the gods, you are all right!" Vinoa exclaimed as she greeted the approaching man.

The bald man came to a stop before the group, confused at the woman's word. "Uh… Hello to you too?"

"We thought you are dead or something." Another vampire, Delmeth, cut in. "The storm was real bad."

Vinoa glared at Delmeth's comment, and then was reminded of the conversation in Ivarstead. Another man there had also misjudged Saitama had died, in a storm.

"Oh." Saitama replied at the statement, deadpan. "Now that you know I am not dead. Can we cook something to eat?"

So they started to cook dinner.

Vampires did not really need to eat, not the mortal's food at least. The normal food might offer relish for them, but not satiation. Being undead, the vampires required blood, and not any blood would do. While animal blood sometimes could alleviate their thirst for a little, the blood from sentient beings, or beings with black souls, was necessary for them to sustain. Without it for too long, they would become rabid, and then eventually fell into coma. There was no way around it except curing the Vampirism, or meeting a violent end.

After the dismissing the thralls of the group, the vampires had not fed for many days. And Vinoa wished the cure would be find out sooner than later. At least she did not feel particularly bloodthirsty at the moment, and the scent of roasted meat surely smelled good.

Currently, the small band was sitting around the cooking rack, waiting for the meat to be done. This small band only consisted of three people, namely Saitama, Vinoa and Delmeth, while the rest of the group was not particular interested in having dinner.

Vinoa stared at the dancing fire as Saitama checked the rawness of the meat. Whereas Delmeth brought up the question that was also on Vinoa's mind, just not in the words she preferred.

"Say. What were you doing in that blinding storm anyway? Sightseeing?" Delmeth asked the bald man, before nudging at Vinoa. "Sightseeing. Get it? _Blinding_ storm?"

Vinoa rolled her eyes. This Dunmer male had a very awkward sense of humor. That was for sure.

Ignoring the annoying dark elf, Vinoa turned to Saitama since she was also curious about the answer.

"Really? That pun?" Saitama was also looking at the mer with a slight frowned, before decided to brush off that bad wordplay. "Yeah, right… I was in a cave, drying off my clothes."

"What was wrong with your clothes?" Vinoa spoke up before the elf could pull another foolish act, but realized immediately her own question was foolish as well, so she added, "I mean, why were them wet?"

"Well… I kinda accidentally slipped into the water."

"Then you found a cave and hided inside until the storm passed, so you wouldn't freeze to death." Vinoa concluded.

Now Saitama was looking at Vinoa confusingly. "No, of course not. Freezing to death was not the problem. My clothes could freeze solid and break was."

"You care more about your clothes than your life?" The Dunmer blurted out. "That's pretty cheap."

"Don't mind Delmeth. He sometimes just can't control his mouth." Vinoa felt the urge to slap the elf.

"I am just being hones-"

Vinoa interrupted the mer's complain, still addressing at Saitama, who was currently prodding at the meat with a knife. "So you are cold resistant too? I recall back at Ivarstead, a man also spoke of you walking in the middle of storm."

However, Saitama did not register Vinoa's sentences at all, as he was concentrating in examining the meat.

Although embarrassed, Vinoa decided to try again. "Saitama?"

"Huh? Yes, I think the meat is almost ready." The bald man belatedly turned his head towards her, face dull.

"No, that is not what I asked. I said," Vinoa emphasized. "You are not afraid of cold, are you?"

"Nope." Saitama stared blankly, as if not knowing why she asked the question. "Not after my trainings… Oh, I think you should get the plates ready."

That last sentence was about the dinner.

The trainings, in the other hand, Vinoa remembered. The trainings included one hundred sets of certain workout routines and some other strange regulations. And one of the strange regulation was no hearth fire in winter. That was probably it, Vinoa assumed. No probably not. Up until this day, Vinoa had not made sure whether the training regime was a joke, diversion or something else. It definitely did not sound like truth.

The conversation fell quiet again, and Saitama, judging the meat was done, detached it from the rack and began to divide it.

Vinoa broke the silence again, not able to endure the eerie stillness. "Hey, Saitama. How was your stroll? Was there anything particularly worth mentioning? Did you meet anyone?"

"The stroll was quite boring." Saitama was frowning, possibly at the distraction to the meal preparation. "But I did meet someone. A crazy old man and a big black blob with lots of eyes and tentacles."

Vinoa frowned too. What was the bald man talking about?

"Crazy old man I can get it." Delmeth said. "What is a big black blob? And what's with the eyes and tentacles?"

"How should I know?" Saitama shrugged, sitting down with his share of the meat. "I think the blob claim to be a Daedric Prince somewhere in our conversation."

Vinoa was not sure what to think of it. A big black blob that was a Daedric Prince… And why did they keep meeting Daedric Princes these days?

"Hell no. I've seen too many Daedra things lately." Delmeth complained. "Did it said which Prince?"

Saitama rubbed his jaw with one hand, musing, while the two vampires were taking their shares of the human food.

A few more second passed before the bald man finally answered. "I don't remember. Don't you think calling it big black blob is quite tongue-twisting? I know. We should just abbreviate it as BBB."

BBB… Calling a Daedric Prince BBB. Vinoa somehow thought it sounded just like the things Saitama would do.

"BBB also said it knows who to ask for the cure for vampirism. A man in Solitude." Saitama continued. "Not sure if we should trust it though. I am not even sure if it's a Daedric Prince or not. More like a snot monster to me. Maybe we should wait until Genos come back first. Then we'll decide what to do with BBB's info."

Vinoa agreed they should wait for Genos, since it was possible that the spellsword had found something on the cure, and she wished the man did. That would be far better than having to deal with another thing that might or might not be a Daedric Prince.

Speak of Genos, the spellsword had just appeared and running towards them.

It raised Vinoa's hope up.

"Sensei, I've look through the related books in the library." Genos was starting to report his finding. "One of the books written by a Dunmer in Morrowind says the disease cannot be cured. However, that is not true, as there are several cases in which a vampire successfully got rid of the illness. One example is…"

The spellsword kept talking and Vinoa listened carefully to the words. If the man had this many to say, he must have found something of use.

Saitama was not that patient, and interrupted the blond's signature long speech. "Get to the point. The point!"

"I don't think there is any method we can use in the books of the College." Genos concluded.

Vinoa's heart sank at that.

Why would anyone gave such a long monologue about finding nothing?

And why did curing Vampirism have to be so hard?

* * *

 **AN: Well… that certain quest has to be started with a crazy guy… If you know which quest I'm talking about.**


	28. §2: It is Coming, but Not a Storm

**AN: Since I find this part of the story often require me to change some details of the already written chapters, I am currently writing a little ahead of the schedule, so I can keep the update rate.**

* * *

Indeed, Genos had not find anything of use in the College of Winterhold. The information from the books were either too vague, too dangerous or involving another Daedric Prince. And they already had the words of a certain Daedric Prince, the one Saitama had dubbed as BBB, since he had forgotten his name.

The next morning, before setting out again, Saitama and Genos decided to visit the small tavern in Winterhold for some supplies – bread and such.

They had been to this inn, the Frozen Hearth, in their last journey. It was just a regular inn, like the ones around Skyrim, with its keeper at the counter, a bard playing lute, and some patrons hanging around. Nothing special, except for two of the patrons, although the two had no relation with each other.

One patron was recognized by Saitama, for the man seemed to be stalking around whenever Saitama entered a tavern. The man once had told Saitama his name – Sam… something. The guy kept on inviting Saitama to a drinking contest and kept on getting ignored. Well… actually not always ignored, for Saitama had tried a couple of times telling the man to get lost, yet without avail. Saitama would admit the man was authentically persistent – annoying but persistent.

Today was no difference, and Saitama yet again ignore the drunkard.

The other patron recognized Saitama and Genos from their last encounter.

The mer was named Nelacar – the Altmer sorcerer that had asked them to retrieve the Azura's Star, which broke completely not long after that.

It took a full minute for Saitama to recall the elf after Nelacar greeted them.

Then the mer handed the two a small satchel, saying, "The fragments of Azura's Star are inside. I think you should have it."

Saitama checked the content of the bag, finding it was more like _dust_ rather than fragments. "No. I am not helping you throw out your garbage."

"Garbage?" Nelacar chuckled. "Maybe it is quite useless in this state, but it is still the remnant of a Daedric Artifact. I thought that maybe you would want to keep it as a memento. Fond of Daedra or not, it is rare to come across a relic of Daedric Prince."

Why would someone want a useless pile of dust? Saitama stared at Nelacar, checking whether the mer was serious.

Genos, however, with a glance on the previous drunken man, took the satchel.

"Thank you for your help last time." Nelacar nodded at the two. "Now I feel I am finally at peace with my past. I am thinking it's time for me to move on. Perhaps I will go visit the Mages Guild in Cyrodiil…"

Thinking aloud, the mer ambled back to his rented room.

Saitama and Genos, on the contrary, walked towards the counter and got their supplies.

Before leaving the inn, just when Saitama about to ask Genos about the bag of dust, Genos marched to the drunken patron. Afterwards, the spellsword opened the satchel, and poured its content entirely into the drunkard's wine. "Stop following us around."

So Genos also considered the man annoying. Saitama approved that. "Oh. Good job, Genos."

And the two walked out of the tavern without looking back.

If they did, they would see the drunkard was not angry but amused.

Sam, or Sanguine – the Daedric Prince of debauchery, cracked a smile, swirled his wine, and took a sip, savoring the taste of the once artifact.

Such a flavor was something truly rare.

* * *

Delphine arrived at the Frozen Hearth in Winterhold at late evening.

The truth was she was worn out in her quest of finding the Dragonborn.

Nevertheless, she was close, as she sensed, closer than ever.

According to her judgement, Delphine was only several steps behind the man these days.

The words of the innkeeper confirmed this.

A man fit the description of the Dragonborn just left this morning.

Delphine tried her best not to bring too much hope up, as she had been disappointed too many times in this endless chase.

Instead of instantly pursuing the man in the coming darkness, Delphine chose to stay at the inn and rest.

There was no promise she could easily find the man on the crisscrossing paths, and it was likely to miss important clues in the shadowy night.

Hence, Delphine took a room and relaxed, refreshing herself as much as she could.

Even if she could not catch with the Dragonborn the next day, she would remain optimistic. For she already had substantial knowledge of the man.

And it was only a matter of time before she find him.

Delphine was more confident than ever.

There was another rumor the group wanted to check out on the way to Solitude.

According to the innkeeper in Winterhold, a man named Falion studied vampires and was currently dwelled in Morthal – a town they would pass by. Perhaps the man would know something about a cure.

After asking around the village, they found the man in his own house easy enough. This time the whole group of vampires followed Saitama and Genos into the wooden building. While the house of Falion was not exactly small by the standard of civilian dwellings, the place became extremely crowded with this group of ten.

Falion, for some reason, stayed quiet and gazed at the visitors attentively, as if inspecting them.

Probably because the large group of vampires… Presumably, a man who studied vampires would recognize a vampire when seeing one, or in this case, _ten_.

Not wanting waste more time, Saitama broke the silence, cutting to the chase. "You are Falion right? Do you know how to cure vampirism?"

"I am Falion." The man replied, still sizing up the band with critical eyes. Then Falion paused again, furrowing his brows, likely considering something.

The man finally continued when Saitama was about to prompt him. Falion said decisively, "No, I don't know anything about that."

Almost a little too decisive for a scholar.

Saitama did not care much about it. None of his business.

"Oh. Sorry to bother then. We'll be leaving." Saitama said, before addressing the group. "Let's go."

And the gang walked out of the door in a single file.

They embarked on their journey towards Solitude again, each with one's own thought.

The vampires were worrisome since there was only one visible option left for the cure, and it again involved a Daedric Lord.

Saitama concluded rumors were usually a load of bull.

Genos, however, felt he had been particularly scrutinized by the man named Falion, and thought something was not right with the man. But where? He could not put.

* * *

 **Solitude City, the Haafingar hold**

Solitude, the capital of Skyrim, towered with a stature befitting its prestige. Established on top an enormous natural bridge overlooking Karth River, the settlement was not only the center of authority in Skyrim, but the largest and wealthiest city as well. Although its most important parts were built with stone, Solitude lack of the oppressing feeling both Windhelm and Markarth possessed, perhaps for the less dense structural layout, or the more delightful climate.

Castle Dour and Blue Palace, two of the most important buildings of political affairs in the city and throughout the province, stood far apart in Solitude – one in northwest and one in southeast. In between the two, wooden civilian houses aligned, the plaza and stone-paved road clean and broad.

The city was indeed a remarkable sight to behold.

It was natural that in such grandeur, the entrance of two travelers was ignored by the rest of the settlement.

It was not quite natural that these two travelers also ignored the rest of the settlement.

These two travelers were obviously Saitama and Genos.

By convention, the eight vampires did not follow them into large settlements when they could help it, in order to prevent further complications. It was especially true when it came to a city like Solitude – its impressive fort-like walls would certainly make fleeing a less viable option if accident should happen. And the group had found an abandoned stone ruins relatively close to the city, where the vampires settled down temporarily. Allegedly, the rubbles were once the Embassy of Thalmor. Saitama figured time would change many things, and this was just yet another example. Since it provided them a much-needed shelter, it was pointless to get sentimental over such things.

Once the camp was set up properly, Saitama and Genos departed for the Solitude City, where their destination lied.

Brushing past a wandering crazy Bosmer and arriving in front of the Blue Palace, the pair came to a stop, observing the stone building. At least Genos was observing. Saitama pulled out a crumpled paper ball from his pocket and tried his best to smooth it out. It did not work very well, as the piece if paper was still covered with creases, but it was now flat enough that its content was recognizable. It was the map that Hermaeus Mora had given Saitama.

Saitama checked the drawing on the paper for a while before speaking. "I think this is the building marked on the map."

"This is the Blue Palace," Genos said, "the place where the Jarl of Solitude lived."

"It does not look particularly blue to me… Just the rooftops." Saitama remarked, unimpressed by the name. "Even those were not very blue either."

"It is only a name." Genos explained in a serious tone. "Redguards are not red either."

"…" Saitama found that hardly refutable, and turned his focus back to the text on the map. "Anyway, let's get in first."

The two entered the Blue Palace without any hindrance, as the single guard outside of the door did not even attempt to question them.

Saitama had wondered why a big black blob would know someone in the Blue Palace. Now judging from the lack of security in the place, Saitama figured anyone could get in here. So the man BBB knew might as well be a freeloader or something.

Once in the Palace, they could instantly see a guard right in front of them past the vestibule and standing back against some greenery. To the left and right of the guard, two separated flight of stairs curved up to the second floor, where the Jarl's Court situated.

Passing the vestibule, the pair could faintly hear voices coming from the Court, likely discussing about some governmental affairs. However, the two paid no mind on such _minor_ event, heading towards a door on their left in the first floor.

The map indicated this door would lead to the section where their target resided – a section named Pelagius Wing, whatever that meant.

Saitama gave the knob a tug and noted the door to the Wing was indeed locked, like BBB had said. The key from BBB also fitted perfectly. With a click, the lock was opened, and then the door in succession.

No one in the Palace seem to care much about the action of the two strangers, while only few occasionally casted curious glances towards them.

Saitama and Genos stepped inside the Wing without any interference or hesitation.

The so-called Pelagius Wing looked abandoned, covered by spider webs and with furniture stacking up here and there. The duo walked around in the eerie silence filling the atmosphere, but were not even slightly bothered.

Then they stopped as Saitama checked the map again for further instructions.

"Let's see…" Saitama said, "Here the BBB wrote I should now put on the amulet it gave me and _go with the flow_. What does that even mean… Wait. Where did I place the amulet? I did bring it with me, didn't I…"

Genos watched in silence as his teacher searched around in his own pockets.

"Oh. Here it is!" Saitama finally found the piece of jewelry, and was about to don it.

"Hold on, sensei." Genos interjected. "The whole thing still makes no sense. What if it is a trap?"

Saitama stared at his disciple, expressionless. "Trap? What for? You worry too much."

"Oh. I understand what you mean, sensei." Genos was nodding, serious as always. "Sensei is too strong and cannot be harmed by any kind of traps."

That was not Saitama had in mind, but whatever.

With a barely noticeable shrug, Saitama donned the amulet. Then he felt it, something hard to describe, like a slight pull tugging at him, a gentle hand guiding his way, or perhaps a mild current swirling around his being.

That was _the flow_.

So Saitama did as the text said, he eased his firm stance and went with it.

In the blink of an eye, the flow carried Saitama into a place completely different from the Wing he had been – maybe another world.

That was not quite expected. Nonetheless, Saitama was not quite surprised either – teleporting, portals and such were rather common these days. Instead, Saitama looked around.

It was an outdoor area, dim and foggy. Saitama was standing at the verge of a clearing, which was surrounded by trees and archways. In the middle of the clearing was a long table full of food. On two side of the table seated two men, conversing with each other.

And Saitama looked at the two, figuring one of them should be the man BBB was talking about.

The man who knew how to cure vampirism.

* * *

 **AN: The later chapters will have references/spoilers to the TES4: Oblivion. (Actually, the amulet in this chapter is already a vague reference, if you squint hard enough.) You don't have to play that game to understand them though. I will do my best to explain everything needed. And since I didn't actually play Oblivion before (I know I probably should do that sometime), I hope I won't get any setting wrong. And if I do get something wrong or you don't get what I am writing, please tell me.**


	29. §2: The Madness for Cure

**AN: Yes, it is related to the Shivering Isles DLC of TES4.**

* * *

 **Inside the Mind of Pelagius III**

Saitama watched the scene before him idly.

Two men were sitting across the table, talking to each other and having some sort of tea party. Well… to be exact, one of them was sitting while the other was standing.

The standing man was wearing purple pants with red and purple garment, speaking louder and more agitated comparing to his companion. Moreover, judging from their dialogues, Saitama deduced this man in purple was probably a looney

No, the man was most _definitely_ a looney.

Actually, the other man sat at the table, who was called _Pelly_ by the standing madman, was not much better either, probably crazy as well. Saitama doubted any sane person would want to have tea with an insane guy.

Maybe that BBB just loved crazy men… Saitama could not help but thought so.

The blob appeared in a cave _owned by a crazy man_ , and then sent Saitama to another two crazy men. So what if BBB itself was insane as well? In that case, the whole trip might all have been a wild goose chase.

Saitama felt more uncertainty arose as he recalled BBB had said it was _the guardian of_ _insane_ or something like that.

Things did not look good.

* * *

 **Apocrypha, the Realm of** **Hermaeus Mora**

Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, the Guardian of _Unseen_ , focused his sight on the Dragonborn, as the man stepped into the mind of Pelagius the Third, where Sheogorath the Prince of Madness himself was holding a tea party with the deceased Mad Emperor Pelagius.

The plan was coming together.

More about the man would soon be revealed when his encounter with Sheogorath played out.

Everything was well.

The only fly in the ointment was the ridiculous alias the Dragonborn dubbed Mora with, owing to the man's forgetfulness.

Yet at this critical moment of probable enlightenment, that hardly mattered to Hermaeus Mora.

Whether Sheogorath could offer the cure for vampirism did not matter either, as the lives of those regular mortals were utterly insignificant in the eyes of a Daedric Lord; otherwise, Hermaeus, being the Prince of Knowledge, would have provide such information himself.

The only thing that mattered was the scene currently unfolding.

Hermaeus Mora watched closely with his innumerous eyes, more curious than he had been in centuries.

* * *

As it seemed, the less crazy man, _Pelly_ , could not bear the overt insanity of the man in violet attire, and opted for dispelling himself with certain conjuration magic. At least, that was what Saitama suspected.

Looking at the remaining man, Saitama was extremely uncertain this was whom he searched for. Even if it was, trying to get accurate information from an insane person would doubtlessly be a pain in the neck. Saitama decided he ought to teach the black blob a lesson if this all turned out to be a prank or a swindle of some sort.

With a sigh, Saitama approach the madman.

"Hey." Saitama spoke to the man. "Do you know BBB? Uh… I mean a big black blob with many tentacles and eyes? Who claims to be a Daedric Prince?"

" _ **Ooh, ooh, a riddle! I know that one. An obvious one. It's name is… Hermaeus Mora! That is too easy. Tell another one. Something harder. Like the one about cheese, disembowelment, unicorns and bananas."**_

"Ah… Right." Saitama tapped his palm. "That's its name! Her-may-us-more. So you do know it, huh?"

" _ **Good old Mora. Of course, I know him! You know what is the problem with Mora? Too many eyes! It's a great disadvantage in a staring contest. But I like the nickname BBB. The next time I see Mora, I might call him that as well."**_

"O-Kay… Whatever." Saitama said, "That Mora blob said you know how to cure vampirism. Can you give me the information?"

" _ **Reeaaaallllyyyy? BBB said that? I am flattered! Now do I know how to cure vampirism? Maybe… Or maybe not. But more to the point. Do you - tiny, puny, expendable little bald mortal - actually think you can convince me to give it to you? Because that's... crazy. You do realize who you're dealing with here?"**_

Their conversations up until now brought up several questions for Saitama.

As the man asked, who was he exactly? If it was possible that this man could not even cure vampirism, was it worth to go through these meaningless chatters? Since the man was crazy, if he offered a cure, would it be useable? How was this man so familiar with the blob?

And most important of all…

"Hey!" Saitama frowned at the speech. "What does it have to do with me being bald?!"

" _ **Oh, nothing. I just like the sound of it – little bald mortal. If you really want a reason, it's because I am Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. So you see, I don't need a reason!"**_

It seemed the Prince of Madness truly had a gift to make people _mad_ at him, as Saitama was starting to feel annoyed. "Do you have the cure or not? If not, I'm leaving."

" _ **Cure? Cure for what? Cure for the baldness? You come to the right place! I have this wig that matches perfectly to your frumpish clothes. I'll just have to get it."**_

At this moment, Saitama felt the urge to smack the madman hard. There was this idioms saying _knock some sense into a person_ , right? This choice was very tempting…

Saitama walked closer to the crazy man, who was still talking.

 _ **"Impatient, aren't you. You know, you remind me of myself at a young age. I was not bald of course. All I cared about was…"**_

Then Saitama smacked him in the head.

* * *

Darkness, darkness was all he could perceive.

Time and space were inconsequential, for he could not even feel himself, but only emptiness.

In the time he should have taken, there was an unbridgeable gap. In the space he should have occupied, there was an insatiable vacancy.

The silence was driving him insane.

Nothing made sense.

He was nothing.

No, that cannot be.

Even though he could not remember anything, he knew he was something - _someone_.

Who was he?

The question made his head hurt.

Did he really have a head?

He wanted to laugh at the thought.

Was laughing possible for someone without a face?

He felt bitter.

And was the hurting truly came from that question?

He was lost.

Then there were sounds emerging from the deepest shadow of the abyss.

Different sounds mingled with one another, and most blurred into a haze.

Only few were discernable.

" _Hero of Kvatch"_ , a crowd hailed.

Confusion grew with the volume of the noises.

" _Farewell. You've been a good friend … But now I must go. The Dragon waits"_ , whispered a voice, barely perceptible in the rousing chorus.

The voice was… familiar.

" _Champion of Cyrodiil"_ , the crowd rattled, louder.

Hundreds of thousands of voices surrounded him, swallowing him, devouring him… Until they were all he was… Until they became him… Or perhaps, he became them…

" _This Realm is yours. Perhaps you will grow to your station. Fare thee well, Sheogorath, Prince of Madness._ _"_

No… the voices… they were always him, part of him, belong to him.

The memories resurged, and the truths retold.

While many fragments were still missing, they would come back eventually.

It was only a matter of time.

And he now knew he got an eternity…

* * *

" _Hey, you all right? I didn't mean to knock you out, you know."_

The once Champion of Cyrodiil - the current Lord of Madness – jolted awake at the voice, opening his eyes with renewed sanity.

Standing above him was the bald man who had just knocked out his consciousness but knocked back his lucidity.

It did not make sense, yet it did not matter for the time being, as for the first time in centuries, he could think clearly.

Sheogorath – the Lord of Madness – was not mad anymore.

He remembered he had not always been Sheogorath, but once a mortal.

While many were recalled, many were still lost.

 _Crazy_ as it sounded, he could not recall his own name, race, or even gender.

Daedric Princes were, after all, genderless, and mortals usually chose the pronouns for them via the form they took.

In this case, Sheogorath could be called a he.

What he did remember, was his titles and many of his great deed as a mortal.

He had been reckoned as Hero of Kvatch, Savior of Bruma, and Champion of Cyrodiil – the mortal who had a critical role in the fending of the Oblivion Crisis. He was also a personal friend of Emperor Martin Septim, who had sacrificed his own life to stop the Crisis and ensure the forces of Oblivion could never again threaten Tamriel.

Ironically, the Hero of Kvatch, who once had been fighting daedra, was currently one of them. A powerful one. A Daedric Prince.

Fate was indeed peculiar

He, Hero of Kvatch, had not always been Sheogorath, and Sheogorath had not always been him either. As a mortal man, Hero of Kvatch had visited the Shivering Isles - the Realm of Sheogorath – and met the Lord of Madness of that time, or the first Sheogorath.

The first Sheogorath had seek him as the champion to stop the invasion in the Realm recurring at the end of every era, known as The Greymarch. After much effort, Hero of Kvatch succeeded, defeating the intruder, Jyggalag.

However, the truth was not that simple. It turned out the first Sheogorath was in fact Jyggalag, the Daedric Prince of Order.

A long time ago, other Daedric Princes had grown fearful of Jyggalag's power, thus cursing him to live as Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness – the total opposition of his true self. And only at the end of every era, Jyggalag was allowed to return to his true form and retake the Shivering Isles from his insane self, which still took the shape of Sheogorath. This event was The Greymarch.

Nevertheless, after each time Jyggalag recaptured his sphere, he transformed back into Sheogorath, and the cycle continued… Until Hero of Kvatch triumphed over Jyggalag.

The Greymarch was stopped along with the cycle, and Jyggalag was released from the curse, no longer turning into Sheogorath.

Yet before Jyggalag left, the Prince of Order had entitled Hero of Kvatch as the new Sheogorath, granting the Shivering Isles as the Hero's territory.

Even though nothing physically or mentally happened to Hero of Kvatch at that moment, things changed from then as the fate was finalized.

Over time, Hero of Kvatch had become truly mad and powerful to match the title Prince of Madness. Whether it was because of his nature or the passing on of the curse, no one could tell, not even himself.

The only certain thing was that fate was inexorable.

But not today.

For the fate had been broken.

With a smack.

Sheogorath examined the one who smacked him with weary eyes.

"You don't have a concussion, do you?" The bald man asked sheepishly. "You need a healer?"

" _ **I am well."**_

Rising up from the ground, Sheogorath never took his attention away from the bald man. The thing just occurred was insane, perhaps even more than heyday of Sheogorath once was. A smack of mortal could bring back the sanity of a Daedric Lord? That was unheard-of, unthought-of and unbelievable. It was impossible and it made no sense, but it just happened. What could one say at such event?

" _ **Thank you, mortal, for returning my sanity."**_

"So that worked? You're welcome." The bald man blinked. "Now can you tell me about the cure of vampirism?"

Sheogorath chuckled.

" _ **You asked the right person, or maybe I should say the right Daedroth. I am indeed aware of a way of curing the illness. A vampire simply need to bathe in water with Purgeblood Salts dissolved."**_

"A bath, really?" The bald man inquired. "Where can we find this Purgeblood Salts anyway?"

" _ **In Deepscorn Hollow of Cyrodiil."**_

The bald man was discouraged at that. "Cyrodiil. That's like another province…"

" _ **However, since you had been a great help to me, I can send someone to retrieve them for you."**_

"Oh, good." Heartened at the offer, the man said. "Can you tell them to send the salts to the camp northwest to Whiterun City?"

" _ **Very well, then. It is time for me to leave. I ought to have a talk with Jyggalag."**_

With that being said, Sheogorath disappeared from the mind of Pelagius.

Still, before heading for Jyggalag, there were two things Sheogorath deemed important, and the mad-no-more Prince of Madness chose to prioritize them.

One was sending a less insane servant to collect some Purgeblood Salts as he had promised.

The other was sending a half-crazy Bosmer who once wandered the street of Solitude to carry a message. The message was one of madness, directing at a military fort in northwest Haafingar. The reason of message was none other than Martin Septim, the past friend to Hero of Kvatch, for a certain group had exploited the man's sacrifice and claimed part of his meritorious deed as their own.

Now was the time to set the record straight, and remind the rest of Tamriel once again that Martin Septim was the one who sacrifice his life to end the Oblivion Crisis.

* * *

 **AN: Hero of Kvatch is the player character of TES: Oblivion, and has become Sheogorath in the Shivering Isles DLC. While it is never explicitly specified in game that the Sheogorath in Skyrim is indeed Hero of Kvatch (probably because not everyone has played the DLC), it is heavily implied so.**

 **Therefore, I decided that I'll take that setting.**

 **Oh, and that last part will be explained in the chapter after the next. (Including who Martin Septim is, so no need to look him up.)**


	30. §2: Out of the Blue

**Apocrypha, the Realm of** **Hermaeus Mora**

Hermaeus Mora, for the first time in his existence, had absolutely _no clue_ on a phenomenon.

He had been observing throughout the course of events, and he possessed enormous amounts of knowledge at his disposal.

Yet the things just happened were simply unexplainable to the Daedric Prince.

He had _naively_ thought everything was according to plan, until the bald man decided to give Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness, a slap.

Then things became awry, leaving question after questions.

How could a mortal man knock a Daedric Lord unconscious with a smack?

How could the same smack bring back the sanity of Sheogorath?

Was it because the power within the man was so strong that it was able to break any ominous curse and insanity itself?

Was it just a random coincidence that infracted the prewritten fate?

Spectating only obscurity, there was only one thing the Prince of Knowledge was certain - he did not know.

He only knew that he did not know…

 _He did not know._

These four words floated in his mind bitterly and mockingly, challenging his rule and supremacy.

These were the words Hermaeus Mora hated most.

And the craving for revelation of such secrecy grew intense as ever.

Hermaeus Mora wanted… No, he _needed_ to comprehend it

While there were still other questions around Nirn with their answers eluded Hermaeus Mora, the true extent of this Dragonborn was the most mysterious among them.

He would remake his plan and find the correct time.

Then he would try again to obtain the discernment.

Fortunately, Hermaeus Mora had the patience, for he did had an eternity.

Or so he believed…

* * *

 **Inside the Mind of Pelagius III**

Saitama was quite surprised that would work.

He had regarded _knocking sense into someone_ as a figure of speech, but apparently, it was quite effective at curing the madman dressing in purple.

At least, the once crazy man, who claimed to be a Daedric Lord named Sheogorath, had become much more clear minded after waking up from the unconsciousness induced by Saitama's smack.

Moreover, Sheogorath had even promised to send him the cure for vampirism – some kind of salts.

If only every Daedric Prince could act in such straightforward manner, instead of giving useless rewards for completing useless assignment.

But whatever. As long as the cure was secure, Saitama was satisfied.

Now the only problem left was he was still inside this strange misty world - a world Saitama was brought to by the amulet BBB gave him.

What was the name of BBB again? Never mind.

Saitama decided he should try getting rid of the amulet and see what happened afterwards.

Then he realized the amulet was stuck…

How could an _amulet_ be stuck?

Saitama presumed it was probably some sort of magic to protect the jewelry from _thievery_.

Since Saitama hardly knew anything about magic and hardly cared for this amulet, he went for the violent but most direct and effective method.

Saitama removed the amulet with brute force.

Although the amulet refused to leave its resting place, it gave out under the matchless strength of Saitama and cracked into pieces, unrepairable.

The dreamy world around Saitama blurred and hazed into indistinctness, and then quickly reformed back to another complete different location – the Pelagius Wing of the Blue Palace.

Saitama instantly recognized he was in the place where he had put on the amulet, and was glad that no other accident occurred.

However, he felt like something was missing. It took Saitama several seconds to realize what was missing. It was Genos.

When Saitama had been pulled into another world, Genos had been staying in the same place. Hence, the Nord was supposed to wait in the Pelagius Wing, but he was not.

Saitama sighed.

He had not even gone for that long. Where could his self-assigned disciple go?

* * *

Genos had seen his teacher disappeared right in front of his eyes, after donning that suspicious necklace granted by a Daedroth.

With the initial shock passed, Genos had deduced that the necklace was not for some summoning ritual but a teleport spell. Teleport to where, that was the question.

Not knowing the scale of this spell, Genos could not tell for sure how far his mentor was teleported to. He just wished it were not too distant from the current location.

Therefore, after waiting in place for a couple of minutes, Genos had determined to search around for his teacher or any possible trace on the magic.

His search had started, of course, at the Blue Palace.

Genos had already checked several parts of the Palace, including the basement, some sleeping quarters and the waiting room. He was nothing but thorough, checking every chest and closet while not missing any corner.

The Jarl's Court had also been explored. When Jarl Elisif the Fair and her advisors were having some sessions about the civil war, Genos had walked in blatantly, drawing everyone's attention. Not at all embarrassed by the many pairs of inquisitive eyes staring at him, Genos had utilized the opportunity to ask whether someone had seen a bald Breton in civilian clothing wandering around. No one had answered him, and Genos had proceeded to walk away, ignoring the incredulous gazes directed at him.

Currently, Genos was searching through Jarl Elisif's quarter.

At the time Genos was inspecting the wardrobe of the Jarl, Saitama came in.

"Oh, Genos, here you are." Saitama found his student without much difficulty, following the path where everyone in the Palace eyeing. "... What are you doing here?"

Genos straightened up and turned his head towards Saitama, with the doors of closet hanging unclosed. "Sensei, I was looking for you. I finally found you!"

Saitama was not sure what to think of it. Why did Genos think he would be inside a wardrobe? And to be precise, he had found Genos, not the other way around...

When Saitama was about to urge Genos to leave with him, a stern voice interrupted him.

"I don't know who you are, but you have no business in Jarl's room." A man said.

Saitama swirled around to see a male Nord in exquisite clothes with two Solitude guards on either side, standing the entrance of the room. Saitama just realized Genos was ransacking the closet of the Jarl. Moreover, the raiment inside the closet seemed to belong to woman. If the Jarl of Solitude was a woman… Saitama just hoped they would not be treated as perverts for Genos' action.

"What are you doing exactly?" The noble man looked askance at Saitama and Genos. "Are you stealing from Jarl Elisif?"

Being treated as thieves was not much better either.

Saitama took a glance Genos, whose hands were still on the wardrobe's open doors.

This would be hard to explain…

* * *

Falk Firebeard, the steward of Elisif the Fair, waited impatiently for an explanation from the two intruders into the Jarl's quarter.

These two men were strange, that much was obvious. The warrior-like blond Nord had disrupted the court proceedings and strolled to Jarl's quarter as if he owned the place, even though the man was in fact a complete outsider. After the blond had disappeared from their line of sight, the bald civilian had simply walked past the confused crowd in court, downright ignoring them, and entered the Jarl's quarter as well.

Who were those men?

Why were they rummaging through the Jarl's possessions?

Falk Firebeard could not think of any other reason than they were thieves.

"Uh… no." The bald Breton replied awkwardly, gesturing at the blond. "He was just… looking for me."

Falk did not think the bald man could fit into the wardrobe, and considered that answer a really bad excuse. Yet with more in-depth evaluation, these two were a little too unabashedly to be thieves, especially since the blond Nord had claimed to be seeking for the bald man before entering the room.

The blond spellsword was more defensive at the inquiry. "You dare to call sensei a thief?"

Then the spellsword conjured fire magic on his left hand, drawing his blade as well. Seeing this, the two guards besides Firebeard stepped forwards with their weapons unsheathed, forming a layer of protection for the steward.

A battle was on the verge of breaking out.

Being a veteran warrior himself, Falk Firebeard clenched his trusty steel sword and narrowed his eyes, cautiously gauging every movement of the blond.

The two sides, at daggers drawn, came to a standstill. Falk waited anxiously for the first stone to be casted.

However, the intense situation was interrupted as the unarmed bald Breton, who looked extremely out of place in current confrontation, moved between the guards and the blond, with an expression of a mix of annoyance and boredom. To Falk's bewilderment, the bald man chose to bust on his companion, as if not aware of the imminent danger.

"Genos, I think he is talking about you…" The bald man stared at the blond incredulously. "You know you are the one who is messing with other's stuff, right?"

The spellsword widened his eyes and re-sheathed his blade, finally seeming to realize his mistake. Falk was quite astonished at the effect brought by the bald civilian's words, while confusing at the relation between the two intruders.

"I am sorry, sensei." The blond bowed to the bald man. "I did not mean to embarrass you."

Falk furrowed his brows. Why was the spellsword apologizing to the bald man, while he should actually apologize to the owner of the room? But there again, the two strangers were _strange_ to begin with. Judging from all their previous odd actions, perhaps the blond was indeed looking for his companion in that closet?

Or maybe they were pretending to be preposterous, using the reverse psychology to hide the fact that they were criminals, or something worse, such as spies from Thalmor or Stormcloaks.

At that thought, Falk Firebeard was on alert again. But to ease the tension in the atmosphere, Falk signaled the guards to lower their swords.

"If you are not thieves, you would not mind an inspection on your belongings." Falk said, narrowing his eyes. "Since we would not be able to find anything stolen on you."

The bald man let out a sigh. "That sounds troublesome… Fine. It won't take too long, right?"

At least the two outsiders were cooperative. Falk ordered one of the guard to approach the two strangers and check their packs, with the other one keeping watch. In the meantime, Falk decided to question the intruders further.

"Both of you were not part of the staff in the Blue Palace," Falk turned to the blond and continued to say, "so why were you searching for your friend here?"

"Saitama sensei is not a friend." The blond stated solemnly. "He is my teacher."

Shifting his gaze towards the regular looking bald man, Falk could not see any teacher-like trait. The blond Nord seemed to be a trained fighter, whereas the bald Breton looked like an ordinary farmer. Perhaps the bald man taught about how to till the land.

"Teacher or not, you still haven't answered my question." Falk Firebeard shook off the irrelevant thoughts, and resumed his investigation. "Why here?"

"It all began at our camp near Whiterun." The spellsword started to explain. "That day, sensei and I went to Whiterun City to buy some groceries. When the shopping was done, we met two persons on our way out of the city…"

"Stop, Genos! That was like more than two weeks ago." The Breton injected, before turning to Falk. "He was looking for me here, because I got teleported in Blue Palace."

Once again, Falk Firebeard frowned. It seemed the blond stranger was too loquacious, yet the bald one too curt. And what he meant by teleport? But one problem at a time. "Why are you in the Blue Palace in the first place?"

"BBB… No… A big black blob with many tentacles and eyes told us we could find a guy in the palace. A guy who know how to cure vampirism." The bald man replied.

Falk's frown deepened at that complete nonsense. A blob with tentacles and curing vampirism? Were they actually crazy or pretending to be crazy to cover up something? The teleport part probably was another made-up.

"I see…" Falk was uncertain of what to say next, casting a glimpse towards the guard sifting through the belongings of the two odd men.

Fortuitously, the guard just finished the search and was ready to report to the steward.

"Have you found anything suspicious among the possessions of our guests?" Falk asked the guard.

"No, sir." The guard answered. "I did not see anything stolen."

Falk Firebeard reconsidered the state affairs, reasoning out it was fairly unlikely that these two were spies or thieves. Even reverse psychology was not suffice to explain such reckless audacity, which persisted throughout their strange behaviors. And there was no proof of thievery.

Besides, _just checking out others' belongings_ was not illegal in Skyrim, although Falk was not sure who made that law…

The two intruders must be either clowning or out of their minds. Falk tended to believe it was the latter.

In any case, these two did not worth the attention at this moment – not when the civil war was still unresting and the Jarl's position was still unsolidified.

Weighing his options, Falk concluded in this wartime, they should not waste any manpower on the two trouble makers. He would simply throw them out and list them among the unwelcomed guests of the Blue Palace. Other than that, he would also rectify the security flaws in the Palace. Something this ridiculous should not reoccur.

That was how Saitama and Genos were kicked out of Blue Palace and prohibited to ever enter again.

* * *

 **AN: Here goes Genos' reaction to Saitama's disappearance.**

 **This is how Saitama defeated the Daedric Prince of Knowledge but got defeated by the combine effort of his student and the steward of Solitude Jarl…**


	31. §2: There Will Be Consequences

**AN: This chapter is mostly about TES history and pushing the story forward, so in a major part, the camera will not focus on Saitama.**

* * *

Saitama and Genos were kicked out of Blue Palace and prohibited to ever enter again.

They were currently on their way back to the camp set up by the vampires on the ruins of Thalmor Embassy.

While being banished from a palace did not trouble Saitama much, one other thing did.

"Genos. There is one thing that's been bothering me." Saitama had to ask. "Why were you looking for me in a wardrobe? Did you hit your head or something?"

"It's not like that, sensei." Genos replied. "I know you would not be coming out of the closet."

"Of course not." Saitama interrupted. "I don't swing that way."

"No. I mean literally coming out of the closet of the Jarl." Genos explained. "I was just looking there for trace of teleport spell."

"Oh… I guess that makes sense." Saitama said. Not that he understood anything about magic. Saitama figured things were alright, as long as Genos did not have some brain damage, so he did not have to be the teacher of a crazy person.

Thinking about crazy person...

"Anyways, back there after I was teleported, I met some crazy guy." Saitama shrugged.

"How dare that BBB lie to sensei!" Genos jumped to conclusion. "All Daedra were unreliable."

"Uh... I think this time it was telling the truth though." Saitama elaborated. "I mean after I smacked the crazy guy on the head, the guy turned rather normal and offered to send the cure of vampirism to our camp."

"Sensei smacked the crazy man and fixed his madness?" Genos pulled out his journal and quill. "Such unconventional method must be recorded down. It is truly remarkable that sensei could think of it as a cure for insanity."

Saitama decided to let Genos think whatever he wanted, since Saitama did not feel like to explain he had smacked the crazy man because the guy kept on emphasizing Saitama's baldness.

Instead, Saitama changed the topic to one concerning BBB. "Yeah... What is with all those madmen and the BBB? I seem to remember BBB said it is the guardian of insane or something. Is there a Daedric Prince about craziness?"

Genos pondered for a moment before replying. "Yes, I believe there is one. Sheogorath is the Daedric Prince of Madness."

"Sheogorath… That name sounds familiar." Saitama deduced. "Then that's probably it. BBB is Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness."

* * *

After Saitama and Genos had announced to the vampires the good news regarding the cure, the group of ten had set out towards Saitama's camp near Whiterun.

Although some of the band had doubts about _taking a bath in a certain kind of salts could cure vampirism_ , they did not have any other better ideas, and agreed they should at least wait for a while to see if the cure would really be received.

Their journey to Saitama's camp was a rather uneventful one. Saitama noted that traveling with such a large group tended to scarred off anyone looking for troubles, including bandits and wild animals. The one time they had passed by a bandit camp, the bandits there had opted for scattering at the sight of the group, rather than rob them. It might have something to do with Genos' intimidating look or the vampires' bloodthirsty eyes.

They might have scared off some regular passerby as well without acknowledging it. That was likely the reason why Saitama found the trip the most peaceful one in a long time.

Or perhaps it was due to the lack of dragon attacks.

Saitama supposed the so-called _the return of the dragons_ was not nearly as threatening as most people believed, since none of those creatures could match his standard of a worthy opponent and they went distinct soon enough without any cause that he knew of.

Now thought of it, the whole dragon affair was quite anticlimactic, almost as if the dragons just decided to show up for no good reason and then disappear all by themselves. Saitama guessed those dragons must be bored – really bored. Still, that did not justify attacking cities and villages, and Saitama would definitely punch them for doing so.

Actually, Saitama was also quite bored, as his last _adventures_ all seemed to be more tedious than interesting, let alone challenging.

When finally the camp next to Whiterun came into Saitama's view, he felt no homecoming joy, but realized immediately how crowded it would be with ten people inside.

All Saitama hoped was that the cure would arrive before long, and the vampires would return wherever they were originally from.

* * *

A week had passed, but the cure had not arrived yet.

Looking at the crowd of vampires in his camp, Saitama regretted he had not asked for the more specific time about the delivery of the cure.

How long did he have to wait before concluding the insane man was untrustworthy, since… well… he was insane…

However, unbeknownst to this group near Whiterun, the insane man kept true to his words, and his _second_ messenger, who had returned from Cyrodiil with the cure in his hands, was on his way to their camp.

The _first_ messenger of Sheogorath, on the other hand, had already delivered the message many days ago, since the distance of that journey was much shorter – the target was simply a Thalmor fort not too remote from Solitude City.

And now, the repercussions of that message was reaching far.

* * *

 **Thalmor Headquarters, the Solitude City**

Elenwen, First Thalmor Emissary to Skyrim, was musing over the history, as the name a long dead man appeared on the latest reports. The man did not rise from the death, per say, yet his name brought implication in this sensitive time.

That man was Martin Septim, the last Emperor of Septim bloodline.

The Empire nowadays was, to be more specific, the Third Empire. Tiber Septim, now revered by the Nord as the ninth divine Talos, had been the establisher of the Third Empire, and the man had conquered - or united as some people preferred to call - the entire Tamriel into its territory, pronouncing the begin of Third Era after such deed.

Tiber Septim then ruled Tamriel as the first Emperor of the Third Empire.

The man was a Dragonborn, and the Blood of the Dragon had been ever since running in the veins of the successors to the throne of the Third Empire.

That was until the decease of Martin Septim, the last of the Septims and the last of Dragonborn Emperors. The story of Martin Septim was extraordinary, intertwining with the disaster of Oblivion Crisis - a total war between the Daedra and the population of Tamriel, plotting by the Daedric Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, and his worshippers.

In the beginning of the Crisis, all known heirs of the Septim Dynasty were assassinated, leaving Martin, the illegitimate son of Uriel Septim VII, as the last heir. While the Crisis accelerated as the gates to Oblivion opened all over Tamriel, bringing a full-scale invasion of the Daedra, Hero of Kvatch had found Martin Septim and helped him claim his deserved throne.

They battled the minions of Oblivion bravely, yet it was not enough, for Mehrunes Dagon himself had appeared in besiege of the Imperial City. The barriers between Oblivion and Nirn had fallen.

In that hopeless moment, Martin Septim took one last desperate attempt. He shattered the Amulet of Kings to become the Avatar of Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time. The Avatar did banishing Mehrunes Dagon and mended the barrier, ending the Oblivion Crisis, yet the summoning also costed Martin's life.

The bloodline of Septim ended there, and the Emperors from then on were no longer Dragonborns.

The conclusion of the Oblivion Crisis marked the start of the Fourth Era and also the decline of the Empire, as the lack of rightful heir had inevitably brought conflicts and chaos over time. Moreover, some suspected that the current Dynasty - the Mede Dynasty – was weak for the want of Dragonblood, since being a Dragonborn had been one of the qualification for the Emperors before Fourth Era.

Either way, the wane of the Third Empire had given rise of the Third Dominion – the Thalmor.

Now, more than two hundred years after the Oblivion, Elenwen did not expected those old ghosts would come back to haunt them, yet they did.

While some Altmers, who were either of the higher status or proficient in history, knew the truth regarding the end of the Oblivion Crisis, most of them believed that the Thalmor were their savior. That was due to the Thalmor had deceived them and claimed the credit in the confusion of aftermath.

Elenwen was one of those who knew of the deceit, and she had just received a series of reports related to this almost forgotten sin.

The report Elenwen was currently holding was the final on this peculiar event started at Northwatch Keep, a military fort west of Solitude in Haafingar.

In the beginning, the news said the Thalmor soldiers in Northwatch Keep had collectively abandoned their post and released all prisoners inside. What was strange was they had also left their armors and clothes inside the Fort, almost as if they were running away naked.

Afterwards, more reports were coming in from all over Skyrim about the sightings of these soldiers. These reports were almost exactly the same – a witness or several witnesses had seen a lone Altmer wandering on the road in birthday suit. When interacting with the bare mer, the only response received were the reciting of Martin Septim's deed in Oblivion Crisis and the refuting of the Thalmor's lies. Those soldiers were obviously insane, but no investigation could tell what made them so.

Although she was unwilling to admit, the happenings lately genuinely frightened Elenwen.

The collapsing of the Thalmor Embassy, the insanity of Ancano – the Thalmor spy in the College of Winterhold, and now the inexplicable fallen of Northwatch Keep.

And in the middle of it all, was a rumor burning like a wild fire – the rumor about a Dragonborn, a mortal man with shouts that could shatter the heaven and level the mountains, a mortal man so strong that no evil could stand firm in his face. It was said the diminish of the dragons was the handiwork of this single man, and many considered him to be the savior of Tamriel.

By comparing the description of the Dragonborn with some spotted scenes during these events, Elenwen believed he was connected to all.

From what Elenwen had gathered, there was a man looking like the Dragonborn around the Embassy when it crumpled.

Other than that, although the mad Altmer, Ancano, could only talk gibberish, Elenwen had recognized some of the words. And she had once thought the mer had seen _a bold man_ and _a blond man_ in his final moment of clarity. However, matching that statements to the depiction of the Dragonborn proved Elenwen had mistaken the mad mer's verbalization, and Elenwen inclined to deduce that the mer had been referring the Dragonborn.

Finally, what happened in Northwatch Keep was somewhat more ambiguous, since nothing indicated what really happened in the fort; but the mentioning of Martin Septim, a Dragonborn Emperor, had related the event again to the Dragonborn.

The conclusions Elenwen drew on these were more than unsettling for the Dominion.

First, without a doubt, the Dragonborn had come.

Second, the Dragonborn was extremely powerful and in an unfathomable way.

Third, the Dragonborn was more than likely against the Dominion.

Last, it was a long shot, but judging from his eagerness to restore the reputation of Martin Septim, the Dragonborn could be a long lost heir of Septims Dynasty. This would also explain why the man was a Dragonborn in the first place.

It all made perfect sense.

At this time, the most important problem remained.

What the Thalmor should do about this? What _could_ they do?

Elenwen had no answer. And even if she had, she was not in power to made such an important call.

All she could do was to organize an ultra-detailed survey on these incidents, and relay the information back to the Summerset Isles, hoping those in the center of authority would find a proper way to deal with it.

However, Elenwen did strongly suggested them not to take any action that could agitate the Dragonborn, for if it ended up in a war, Elenwen was not sure they were ready against such an opponent – a man that could easily overpower an army.

* * *

 **AN: One thing I'll mention here is that some lore in TES are up to interpretation since the books are all written in narratives of their respective authors. So when I write about an event, I will write with either my own interpretation or the perspective of one of the characters. And there are some pure guess works too.**


	32. §2: The Dragonborn Comes

**AN: Although this chapter does not focus on Saitama either, I consider it somewhat important.**

* * *

In this month, several pieces of news floated in Whiterun City, and most of them were no minor ones.

They were basically all Whiterun people talked about in their leisure time.

One of the older news was that the Gildergreen tree in the center of the city had been replaced by a new sapling from the Eldergleam, brought by an adventurer. While the sapling grew fast, the prosperity of one tree could hardly draw people's attention for long. The more interesting part of the story was the adventurer claimed he had met a member of Dark Brotherhood, who was also a pilgrim of Kynareth, and had acquired the sapling with the man's help. Although some reserved their opinions on such an assertion, most did not care much and simply considered it as a good topic of gossip, since it added more flavor to the mystery of the Dark Brotherhood.

One of the more recent news was about its residents. An old woman in Whiterun was wild with joy as she saw the returning of her missing son. Later, it was learned that the reappearing man had been kept as a prisoner in a Thalmor fort during his absence for being a supporter of the Stormcloaks. However, the peculiar thing was how the man had been released. According to the released man, a naked Thalmor soldier had freed him without any explanation. Furthermore, the fort he had been held in was completely empty by the time he left, almost as if all soldiers had abandoned their post. And this piece of news, many people presumed, was somehow related to another rumor – the most popular rumor around Skyrim.

The Dragonborn had come.

Moreover, the man was either at Whiterun or near the city. The Jarl of Whiterun allegedly had already sent an invitation to the Jarl's residence – Dragonsreach.

* * *

The people currently resting in Saitama's camp were not of the type that keen on rumors, unless they deemed the rumors involving great evil on Nirn or relating to them personally.

That meant, in their point of views, there was no such rumor of late – nothing about curing vampirism, mad necromancer or monsters ravaging cities.

So they just ignored all valueless gossips while waiting _impatiently_ for the cure to arrive.

Saitama really hoped he could get rid of these vampires sooner rather than later.

Therefore, he was very glad at the arrival of a courier, thinking the cure had come.

Yet, all Saitama received were only disappointment and a letter.

A letter of invitation.

* * *

 **Whiterun City, the Whiterun Hold**

Delphine had confirmed the Dragonborn's whereabouts.

The man was now inside the Dragonsreach, invited by none other than Jarl Balgruuf the Greater himself.

Recently, more information on the Dragonborn had been revealed – some were the facts whereas some were assumption. Among them, the piece of intelligence that concerned Delphine most was a speculative one. Yet the importance of it was incomparable to her, for Delphine was one of the last member of an ancient organization named Blades.

The predecessors of Blades had started as dragon hunters, and had later become servants of the Dragonborn Emperors. However, the organization had only been known with the name 'the Blades' in Third Era, when they had transformed into an intelligence service that answered directly to the Emperors of the Septim Dynasty, as the dragonblood was passed down in the veins of the Septims. Also in the Third Era, with the dragons becoming nearly extinct, the Blades had deviated further from their dragon hunter nature and embraced the worship of Talos.

After the demise of Martin Septim, the end of Septim bloodline and the absence of Dragonborns, the Blades had no longer served the Empire, but secluded themselves, waiting for the next Dragonborn. It was during this period that they had turned to fight against the Thalmor, joined the Great War, and eventually sundered at the defeat of the Empire.

Ever since, the Thalmor had extinguished the Blades down to the last member, or so they thought. Nonetheless, at this moment, Delphine was the living proof of the Thalmor's failure.

Moreover, the speculative information, which Delphine regarded highly, would possibly return the Blades to their former glory. It was said that the Dragonborn was not only blessed by Akatosh with dragonblood, but was in fact a descendent of the Septim lineage.

What kind of impact would such matter bring to the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion? Was it even true that the Dragonborn was a Septim? Delphine did not know.

Standing before the gate of the Dragonsreach, all Delphine knew was that the Dragonborn was behind this door, and this Dragonborn, with such a powerful Voice, was worthy of the kneeling of the Blades.

Taking a deep breath, Delphine shoved the gate open, and marched firmly towards the bright future of the Blades.

Towards the Dragonborn – a man with that proud title…

* * *

 **Solitude City, the Haafingar Hold**

General Tullius, the Imperial General in charge of the war against the Stormcloak Rebellion, walked out of the Blue Palace with deep frown.

The civil war of Skyrim had already borne down heavily on the Imperial officer, and the news about the Dragonborn complicated the situation further.

The strength and reputation of the man were both so impeccable that they were nigh inapproachable for the mortal world.

In the view of Tullius, who hated the Stormcloaks and the Thalmor alike, the emergence of this Dragonborn was a doubled-edged sword.

The reports so far all indicated the Dragonborn was in opposition to the Thalmor, and had done immense damage on their resource and image effortlessly. If Tullius could secure the help of such a strong ally, the war against the Stormcloaks and the Thalmor would both be won in due time.

Yes, General Tullius considered the Dragonborn as a desirable war ally, instead of a potential subordinate. Tullius did not expect a man with such extraordinary stature would fall in line with any army.

The critical problem lied in how. Although the Empire and the Dragonborn had one common enemy – the Thalmor, Tullius was not confident that the Dragonborn would need such an alliance, for the prowess the man possessed was far beyond imagination and the man had not experienced any setbacks in his battle, unlike the Empire.

And there was the worst case scenario that disturbed General Tullius greatly. What if the Dragonborn did not sided with the Empire but with the Stormcloaks, or even became the leader the Stormcloaks. It was possible since the prestige of the Dragonborn was rising high and would soon exceeded Ulfric if not already. Tullius grimace at the thought. The only comical side of that was the name of the rebellions would have to change, as they were not lead by UIfric Stormcloak anymore, but that was hardly laughable at this grave moment.

The harsh truth was that the force of Empire was already stretching thin with the civil war and watching out for the backstabs coming from the Thalmor, and it would definitely fall apart if an enemy like the Dragonborn arose.

Tullius could not let that happen.

That was the reason why he had been talking to Jarl Elisif the Fair earlier – to convince the inexperienced young woman to accept possible compromise for the greater good.

Now, General Tullius was on his way back to Castle Dour, in which he would send his second in command, Legate Rikke, on an extremely important assignment. Legate Rikke would disguise herself, meet this Dragonborn and if possible, forge an alliance. If not, she should observe the man carefully for any leverage - be it the man's interest or weakness – and how ambitious the man was. Then Tullius would make further decision based on the information the woman brought back.

It was a sensitive mission under the façade of peace between the Empire and the Dominion, to seek collaboration from an enemy of the Thalmor. And Tullius would have gone personally, if it were not for he had to preside over the war affairs and stabilize the relationship with the Dominion.

Another thing required the Legate to confirm was whether the Dragonborn was indeed a descendent of the Septims. If that was true, a tempest could rise within the Empire, between the current rulers Mede family and the previous rulers Septims.

It would be a conflict about who was the rightful heir of the authority.

And General Tullius wished it would not come to this. As a loyalist to the Empire, Tullius could not fathom which side he would take if it did.

But now, one step at a time. General Tullius would have to first ensure the Dragonborn would not fall on the wrong side of the war, at least not before they triumph over the Stormcloaks and the Thamor.

For the Dragonborn was a man deserving that title…

* * *

 **Windhelm City, the** **Eastmarch Hold**

As the leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion and the factual Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak was preoccupied with the current predicament.

The Dragonborn had come, that was without question. And intelligence from reliable sources had pinpointed the man's location in Whiterun.

The obvious sign that the Dragonborn was in conflict with the Thalmor was of mixed fortune for the Stormcloaks.

At first glance, it was benevolent for their side, since driving out the Thalmor and their puppets – the Empire – was the ultimate goal of the Rebellion. However, under scrutiny of a war strategist as Ulfric, things were not that simple.

In fact, the appearing of the Dragonborn had unsettled Ulfric's original plan on the conquering of Skyrim.

If the story about the deed of this Dragonborn was true, which Ulfric inclined to believe so, the capacity of the man could turn the tide for any side in this war – the Empire included. And Ulfric knew while he viewed the Empire as weak, they were still enemies to the Thalmor. It would imply no matter which side the Dragonborn chose, Imperial or Stormcloaks, he would eventually achieve his purpose of defeating Aldmeri Dominion.

The man had no reason to join either side. But this could not ensure that the man _would not_ join either side.

Actually, that was not even the most severe crisis for the Stormcloaks.

It was believed by some that the Dragonborn was not only a devoted worshipper of Talos, but also an heir to Septim Dynasty. If it was true, Ulfric suspected the man's ambition lied beyond driving out Aldmeri Dominion from Skyrim. It was just the beginning, as the man could claim the throne easily with his unearthly power, and rebuild the weaken Empire into its former glory – another Dragonborn Emperor ruling over Tamriel.

It that were the case, the Empire would be feeble no more, the Thalmor's invasion would be a threat no more, and the worship of Talos would be outlawed no more. In other words, there would be no more reason for the existence of the Stormcloak Rebellion.

Ulfric would admit he found this hard to accept. He had spent so much time and effort to ascend to his present position and amass the rebellion troops to this formidable strength, struggling through Markarth, Solitude, to Windhelm. All of those only to crumpled under the strength of one man without the man even lifting his finger or intending to do so.

Lusting for power was a common trait among most of the men, and Ulfric was no exception. While he did believe in the cause he was fighting for, he would be lying if he said it had nothing to do desire for power. However, he was clear minded enough to know when to step down, especially when almost everyone in the rebellion was gossiping and hailing the honor of the Dragonborn in a solemn tone as if talking about the gods.

A Septim or not, the Dragonborn had without a doubt already become the crux of this war and the fate of Skyrim, or even the whole Tamriel.

As a user of the Voice himself, Ulfric knew he was no match in terms of strength when comparing to the Dragonborn. Ulfric could only wield his shout as a tool in combat, whereas the shout of the Dragonborn could destroy the entire war zone itself with ease.

Therefore, in order to determine what was his next move, Ulfric would resort to a more discreet and diplomatic maneuver.

He had dispatched his right-hand man, Galmar Stone-Fist, towards Whiterun to learn what the Dragonborn truly want.

In the meantime, Ulfric would contemplate on all available options, preparing himself for the worst outcome, if that was possible.

The Dragonborn was, after all, worthy of the title…

* * *

 _The Strongest Man on Nirn._

* * *

 **AN: Yes, the Dragonborn they recognize is the one you know who.**

 **I have been planning this for soooooo long…**

 **More will be explained in future chapters.**

 **And since playing video game is not a valid hobby in TES universe, I'll have to tweak certain trait of that character a little…**


	33. §2: The Strongest

**AN: Well… I'll admit the last chapter is kinda misleading, but somebody got it right. I believe this one should clear things up, if you have read the OPM manga…**

* * *

The letter Saitama received was from Helgen, in which Sten stated the shack had been tidied up, and they were welcome to move in anytime.

Not long after the arrival of that letter, another man showed up. This time, their hope was fulfilled as this messenger brought in the cure of vampirism.

The vampires could not wait to use the cure, and immediately left the camp to find some pool of water, where they could bathe in the solution of the salts.

Saitama and Genos, on the other hand, stayed in the camp, since they were not one of those creeps that enjoyed watching people bathe.

The two chose to pack their things up during this idle time, getting ready to move to the new place in Helgen.

* * *

 **Dragonsreach, Whiterun**

Dragonsreach was the Jarl's keep in the Whiterun City. Perching at the highest point of the city, the palace oversaw the people under its jurisdiction, both literally and metaphorically. The outlook of the building was impressive, constructed in ornate Nordic style, grandeur and towering. Once inside, a great hall greeted its visitors, spacious and majestic, yet not over luxury. At the end of the hall, the Jarl sat, resting in a position that could view the whole chamber with one glance.

Or he usually did… As of now, the seat of the Jarl was empty.

And Delphine immediately noticed that after she ascended the short flight of stairs leading to the main area of the natural-lit grand hall. The man she was looking for – the Dragonborn – was nowhere to be seen as well.

It was not the first time Delphine had stepped into this great castle, and she had an acquaintance here. Therefore, instead of wandering around aimlessly and trying her luck to find the Dragonborn, Delphine turned right in the hall, strolling into a side room, where her acquaintance was leaning over a table, studying the papers on it.

"Farengar." Delphine cracked a mild smile. "A man who is always diligent at his works."

"Delphine?" The man, Farengar, spoke, a glint of surprise in his eyes. "It's been a while since we last met. What brought you here?"

The relation between Farengar and Delphine was nothing personal. On the contrary, it was pure business, mainly involving the exchange of information. Of course, since Farengar was the court wizard of Dragonsreach, the information was usually about Farengar's research and contained nothing classified.

"I am here to see the man everyone is talking about." Delphine replied. "The Dragonborn."

"The Dragonborn, huh… I should have guessed." Farengar said, before gesturing to his right. "I believe the Jarl is dining with him at the Great Porch."

"Thank you, Farengar." Delphine nodded to the mage. "I will be seeing you."

With that being said, Delphine left the quarter and went right, climbing another flight of stairs that ended in a war room. Behind the gate in the warroom situated the Great Porch.

The Great Porch, as its name indicated, was a grand hallway extended into an outdoor patio. And the legend said this was the place where the palace's name was given, for allegedly in the Great Porch lied a dragon trap.

Delphine had heard of that story – the story about Olaf One-Eye.

While the story varied from version to version, most main points remained the same.

Olaf One-Eye had been a Jarl of Whiterun. In his time of ruling, the man battled the dragon Numinex with the help of the Shout, and finally ensnared the dragon in a trap in Whiterun, where Numinex was imprisoned until his death. Because of this great deed, Olaf One-Eye rose above his rank and became the High King of Skyrim.

However, in Delphine's opinion, the heroic deeds of Olaf was nothing comparing to the ones lately – the deeds of the Dragonborn, who easily defeated dragons with mere his Thu'um and had resolved the dragon crisis single-handedly.

Farenfar had said the Dragonborn was on the Great Porch.

Containing her excitement the best she could, Delphine pushed the gate to the porch wide open.

At the far end of the patio, Delphine could see two men sitting at the either side of a long table, upon which a feast held.

One of the men Delphine recognized as the Jarl of Whiterun, Balgruuf the Greater.

The other, while Delphine had never met personally, she was certain that was the Dragonborn, as the man fitted all the description perfectly.

At the sight of the man, Delphine was shaken, not by fear, but by exhilaration, for her long search had finally come to an end.

It was the Dragonborn… Her effort was not in vain…

The porch was not very long, yet Delphine felt it took eternity for her to reach the other side, as it took all of her will not to sprint towards the man recklessly.

In such a significant event, Delphine would keep her every action proper.

Closing the distance, Delphine could see the two men at the table more clearly.

The Jarl seemed to be tense, possibly nervous at the overwhelming presence of the Dragonborn. Delphine was able to detect the faint fear in the Jarl's eyes, but could hardly blame it, for it was a man's right to tremble in the face of such incredible force.

Shifting her gaze to the other side, Delphine once again turned her focus to the Dragonborn. The man was a Nord with rough blond hair combed back and drooping around his shoulders. His expression was stern and resolute, while his stance firm and rigorous, as if ready for battle at all times. Delphine deemed it a trait of an experienced veteran.

The Dragonborn was currently not in any armor, and Delphine judged it a voiceless declaration of his confidence. Although the man was not particularly bulk, he was tall and well built. Besides, the strongest weapon of a Dragonborn did not lie in physical strength, but the power of Thu'um.

There were three long scars trailing over the man's left eye, testifying his past harsh fight and making his appearance more menacing. His angular jawline and the sharp feature gave the man a more masculine presence.

The man was, without a doubt, a battle-hardened warrior.

Arriving next to the table, Delphine naturally drew the attention of the two men as she intruded their feast.

Then she felt it – an invisible pressure fell upon her along with the glare of the Dragonborn.

The man's gaze was fierce, threatening to pierce everything in its way. For the first time in a long while, Delphine sensed grave dread rising in her chest, or perhaps it was anxiety. Either way, she had not even felt such intense mood when being hunted by the Thalmor or surviving at the brink of countless dangers.

This was it.

The Dragonborn – an adventurer unfazed by any challenge – a fighter triumphing over the Thalmor alone – a dragonslayer powerful enough to shatter his opponent – a leader worthy to be followed.

Delphine just realized how ridiculous it was that she had once thought the Blades' duty was to protect the Dragonborn. But now she understood it. The Dragonborn need not protection and she was in no position to offer it. And under the man's guidance, the Blades would no longer need to hide from the Thalmor.

It was time for them to walk out from the darkness, and into the light.

Vacantly, Delphine recalled all the mighty feats she heard about this Dragonborn, and, unanticipatedly, an old tale about the Blades, or more accurately, the precursor of the Blades. About how they first heard the voice of a Dragonborn, and how they knelt before the man and swore their lives to him.

This must be how they felt.

Delphine – a woman who had fought the Great War and survived several assassinations – a woman toughen by extensive experiences and matured by time – again felt the anxiety that had filled her once in her youth. Yet she did not consider it unnatural – not when she was in front of this legendary Dragonborn.

"Who are you?" The Dragonborn spoke in a calm and steady demeanor, disrupting the oppressive silence.

At that, Delphine felt that no lie would escape the Dragonborn's perception, and she told the truth.

"My name is Delphine. I am one of the last members of the Blades…"

She explained everything, including the history of the Blades and her lengthy search for the Dragonborn.

Then Delphine proceeded to swear her oath and pledge her loyalty to the Dragonborn, just as her predecessors had done.

"… As a Blade, I swear allegiance to the service of the Dragonborn…"

* * *

Currently, at the camp of Saitama, while packing up their luggage, Genos dug out something.

Something out of place.

"Sensei!" Genos called out, waving the elongated item in his hand. "Do we need to put this thing in our package?"

Saitama turned his head to his student. What was it this time?

At the start of their packing, Genos seemed intending to stuff everything in the camp into their luggage, including many Saitama considered as trashes. Saitama guessed that was why Genos' bag often ended up so big, although that was not quite true to Genos, who believed everything in his teacher's camp was useful, because... well... it belonged to his teacher...

Anyways, Saitama had stopped Genos from bundling up all sorts of garbage. And from then on, every time Genos saw some item he had not collected before, he would consult Saitama.

The stick-like object Genos presently held was one of those.

Saitama stared at that piece for a while, as the memories concerning it escaped him. Until finally, he remembered something.

* * *

More than half a year ago, Saitama already had an encounter with a Daedric Prince.

It was also in Dragonsreach.

At that time, there was a locked room in the basement of the palace, within, a evil contained. The evil manifested its form in the shape of a blade – the Ebony Blade.

The Ebony Blade was an artifact of the Daedric Prince Mephala.

The blade was able to consume the essence of its victims, and corrupt the desire of its owner.

The Jarl of Whiterun and the court wizard had understood the perverted nature of this weapon, and decided to lock it in this isolated room, for their attempt of destroying the blade proved futile. Accordingly, not even the scorching fires of the Skyforge could melt it.

However, Mephala was not willing to let her artifact lied disused, and through the door of the basement, she spoke.

While wandering around in the building, the youngest child of the jarl was tainted upon hearing her words. And the more the child returned to the door, the darker his attitude became. Yet, the child was not capable of opening the lock, and the blade remained caged.

It was about then Saitama strayed into Dragonsreach, met the boy, and discovered how rude the child was.

In his effort at reproaching the boy, Saitama learned about the _whispering lady_ , who had been telling the boy many dreadful secrets. Saitama concluded that woman must be a bad influence to the child's behavior.

Therefore, Saitama asked the boy to show him where this _lady_ was, and the boy led him before a locked door.

A woman's voice emitted from behind the door. But for Saitama, it seemed that the woman was simply beating around the bushes against the accusation of harming children's mentality.

Other than that, the only thing Saitama got was the woman wanted him to open the door. Then it came to Saitama that if the child was telling the truth, being locked inside a small room for such a long time, the woman probably had defected mentality herself.

One way or another, it seemed that the door had to be removed from their way to reveal more insight of the event.

After the boy promised that Saitama would not have to pay for the reparation of the door, Saitama teared the door right off its hinges, earning a short silence from the whispering lady.

And no one was actually inside the room – only a journal and a katana rested on a wooden table.

Nevertheless, when Saitama was about to leave, viewing this as a boring prank, the woman's voice called again, urging Saitama to take the katana along with him.

She said she rather the blade be "in the hands of an ambitious and talented person" as Saitama, and claimed that the blade had to "drink the blood of deceit" in order to return to its glory. In other words, she wanted Saitama to take that katana and strike his allies with it.

Of course, when the woman was talking the hind legs off a donkey with those exquisite words, Saitama drifted off to what he should have as dinner and failed to understand what she meant.

In the end, Saitama agreed to take the blade with him under the condition that the woman stopped talking nonsense to the child.

* * *

That was how the blade winded up in Saitama's camp.

However, that was not how Saitama recalled the event, since he had forgotten most of the details and only retained an obscure recollection.

"I got it from Dragonsreach." Saitama told Genos. "It is a gift from… a whimpering woman… I think…"

Genos looked confused.

Saitama, therefore, elaborated it. "Uh… I believe she accidentally locked herself in a room or something, and she gave me the katana for helping her get out."

The truth is, Saitama was not sure whether things happened like that, and probably had never truly comprehend that the woman was Daedric Prince or the blade was a Daedric Artifact – an artifact that the Jarl of Whiterun failed to destroy.

Genos looked at the _blade_ , before stated. "But it is broken."

That was an understatement – the katana was not only broken, but was used as a tent peg as well, covered with filth and dirt.

"I tried to use it to cut up vegetables, but the kitchen knife is much better at that." Saitama explained. "Then I unintentionally broke it because it is too long."

Saitama was referring to the time when he unwittingly _cut_ himself with the blade, which resulted in, naturally, an impaired katana.

Saitama continued. "And I happened to be missing a tent peg, so…"

"Ah, I see." Suddenly, Genos brought out his journal again. "I should record down this ingenious usage of a broken blade."

At that, Saitama stared blankly, since he could never grasp why Genos always liked to write about those petty things.

Choosing to ignore his disciple, Saitama picked up the broken blade and threw it into the bag with other tent pegs.

One could never know when he could use an extra tent peg.

The other half of the blade? Saitama had no idea where did it go.

* * *

 **AN: The strongest man and the strongest tent peg on Nirn…**


	34. §2: This is (Not) What He Wants

The vampirism was successfully cured with the Salts, and the ex-vampires went on their respective ways, leaving words of gratitude to Saitama and Genos.

While some of them provided minor amounts of gold and some offered future help to express their thankfulness, the thing Saitama appreciated the most was that they had finally stopped stalking him everywhere.

Finally, he would get some peace… at least as much he could get with Genos around…

The packing was also done, and Saitama and Genos set out for Helgen.

They left the camp near Whiterun, passed the Riverwood town, and arrived at Helgen in less than half a day. The trip was rather short, as both of the travelers were quite fast and had not lingered on the road.

Upon entering Helgen, Saitama noticed much progress in the rebuilding was done since their last visit. Several houses were finished and part of the stone fort was standing as it used to.

It was actually very quick and one would presume there were some professional construction workers took part in the job. It was impressive.

None of those crossed Saitama's mind, since he did not know much about the speed of construction and such.

Saitama and Genos simply walked to the shack.

Somehow, the shack looked different than they last saw it.

Luckily, Sten, now as the overseer of the site, came just in time to explain what had happened.

"Saitama! Genos! You two have arrived." Sten exclaimed, before gesturing at the shack. "We decided to alter this house a bit. Do you like what you see?"

The shack had been expanded in its size, and was almost twice as large as its original size. Its appearance was quite like a regular house now, albeit a smaller one.

"Uh… It looks larger." Saitama replied, not sure what the man wanted him to say.

"Larger? That is an understatement." Sten waved his arms, and started to walk around the house. "Let me provide a more detailed presentation of the place. Both interior and exterior. First of all, as you said the house looks larger. The initial shack only covered the area from here… to here. So this part is newly constructed with the timber ordered from Falkreath. The architecture style is designed to fit the climate of south Skyrim and as a part of the town's layout, we made…"

"Stop it right there." Saitama interrupted the talking man, remembering the long speech Sten gave about a house in their last meeting. "Since when did you make a career change to become an estate agent?"

"Sorry. Bad habit." Sten smiled sheepishly. "We've built quite a few houses lately, and I get to introduce most of them to their owners. Long story short, our plan of rejuvenated the place gone a little out of hands. After we put all necessary furniture inside the house, such as beds, table, chairs, and so on, we found there is no space for a proper kitchen. So as you can see, we extended the building."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess." Saitama supposed this expansion was acceptable – at least it was not oversize to the point that cleaning the house would be an intolerable nuisance. Besides, with one self-appointed disciple insisting on living in his house, that was probably for the better.

"No need to thank us, it is the least we can do." Afterwards, Sten unlocked the door and led the two inside. Stopping in a relatively empty chamber of the house, Sten spoke again. "Here, if you need alchemy table and enchanter, this is a good position to them. I can also arrange the purchase, but it will take a while, since we do not have artisan for those."

Saitama did not know a thing about enchanting or alchemy, and had never seen Genos using those either. And wouldn't it be too crowded after adding two tables here? "Nah… Those are of no use to us. The place is fine like this."

After a few more exchanges, Sten left the house, leaving Saitama and Genos to set their things in order.

And for the first time in a long while, Saitama felt things went well.

He decided to celebrate it by having some noodles.

* * *

 **Whiterun City** **,** **the Whiterun Hold**

The Jarl of Whiterun had assigned Breezehome as a temporary residence for the _Dragonborn_.

The house was not too far from the city gate, located in the Plains District, which was the lowest ground in the city. It was medium size in terms of regular residences in Skyrim, and was the only available house in Whiterun currently.

While Delphine considered this house too small for someone as great as the Dragonborn, she understood it was difficult for the Jarl find an empty habitation in such a short notice.

Moreover, the Jarl had ordered his steward to furnish the house as fast and decent as he could, and the place was completed with everything necessitated in a household of adventurer, including an alchemy lab and an arcane enchanter.

Overall, this place was only good enough for short stay.

The Dragonborn had accepted the Jarl's offer without objection, but hardly spent any hour in the house, or the city for that matter, during daytime. He also refused Delphine to follow him around.

Therefore, in these couple of days, Delphine mainly stayed in the Breezehome, await further instructions from the Dragonborn.

The Dragonborn was not exactly the talkative type, and even when he was staying in the Breezehome, the man mostly locked himself inside his room alone. One of the few things Delphine learned about the man was that the Dragonborn was a bard, a hobby or a disguise, she presumed.

Other than that, Delphine believed the Dragonborn was plotting something, as a man with such power must have certain degree of ambition. She just had not figured out what.

This day, Delphine finally apprehended what the Dragonborn planned – the man was expecting someone, or in this case, two persons.

It happened during the time Delphine was strolling in the Whiterun City.

When Delphine approached the gate, she could see a man and a woman engaging in a fight.

This was not a common thing in such an orderly town.

Stranger still, the guards around did not intervene, as if at a loss what to do.

Drawing closer to the pending battle, Delphine realized that she recognized both party, and hence the cause of the guards' indecisiveness.

Although both of the fighters were not in their uniform, Delphine could tell the woman was an Imperial Legate and the man was a Stormcloaks General, since she knew exactly who they were.

The woman was Legate Rikke, General Tullius' chief lieutenant. The man was Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric Stormcloak's housecarl. They were essentially the second in command of their respective side in this civil war.

That would explain why the guards did not interrupt their fight.

The Jarl of Whiterun, while being nominally under the authority of the Empire, was a Talos worshipper himself, and preferred to remain neutral in this war, at least when that was possible.

Therefore, in this heated situation, it was hard for the guards to stop the fight without hurting either sides. And if one of these two important civil war figures was harmed by a guard in Whiterun, it could jeopardize the neutral status of the city.

Apparently, telling the two to cease their aggression did not work either. The Whiterun guards could only watch nervously while sending one of their peers to report this shambles to the Jarl.

Then all of sudden, the citizens started to rattle, and it was not directing at the battle, but towards the gate, which just opened and revealed a man entering.

Delphine turned around in time to see the Dragonborn coming towards the site.

The Dragonborn always had this effect on people when being recognized.

The noise in the crowd became louder as the Dragonborn moved nearer, until eventually the two in conflict noticed as well.

The two halted in a rigid stance, where the man's battleaxe rested right on top of the woman's shield.

It was almost comical, yet no one laughed.

The Dragonborn, now bearing the full attention of the crowd, observed with deep creases between his brows.

Remembering the duty of a Blade, Delphine walked towards the Dragonborn without hesitation.

When she finally stood next to the Dragonborn, Delphine could hear it clearly – the rumbling within the man's chest.

Many believed this Dragonborn was different from his predecessors, since the man had achieved such power in his mortal state – more powerful than Delphine had heard in any story about Dragonborns. It was said the reason behind the man's strength was related this sound in his chest, where a magical fire was always burning. Some said it was a gift from the gods. Some said it was given by the fate. Either way, most were convinced that this fire was there from the day the man was born.

Thus the name.

People called the fervent flame inside the Dragonborn _Ingenium_ , which meant natural talent, and concluded the rumbling noise indicated the Dragonborn was materializing the fire into a mighty shout – a heaven shattering Thu'um.

It only started when the Dragonborn was readying for battle. Purportedly, no monster or dragon having heard this sound could come back alive.

That was the sound Delphine was hearing.

The Ingenium.

The crowd and the two fighting also heard it.

Galmar Stone-Fist and Legate Rikke sheathed their weapons.

The commotion died down a little, lapsing into faint whispers.

Rikke was the one who first spoke up in the standstill.

"You must be the mighty Dragonborn everyone was praising." Rikke said to the man who disrupted the battle by simply walking in. "I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. May I speak to you privately?"

Galmar was apparently not pleased at the fact Rikke inquired preemptively. "The Dragonborn has no business talking with you Imperial puppets. He is a true Nord, and an enemy of the Thalmor."

"I am a Nord as well." Rikke turned towards Galmar. "But I am clear-headed enough to recognize the Empire is our best chance against the Dominion, and you Stormcloaks' reckless rebellion is only distracting the Empire from its true foe."

"How can we expect the Empire to triumph over the Dominion as all they did was losing?" Galmar retorted. "The White-Gold Concordat and the banning of Talos worship are the incontrovertible proofs of how weak the Empire is. For the good of Skyrim we need to drive out the Thalmor and the Empire alike. This is the only way."

"Don't say it like you and Ulfric did not take part in the Great War." Rikke said. "If you really consider the Dominion as your foe, you should side with the Empire and fight against them. The war between Stormcloaks and the Empire is only weakening us even more. The only party could gain profit from out conflict is the Dominion."

"The Empire have already let Skyrim down." Galmar became more agitated. "Skyrim belongs to the Nord, and we Nord will forge our own future – a future without the Dominion or the Empire. Maybe we should resolve this argument in the Skyrim's way – the Nord's way."

Galmar unsheathed his axe again, ready for battle.

"So be it." Rikke drew her sword as well. "If you insist on starting a fight, I will not make concession either."

The imminent storm, however, was dispelled by a single sentence.

"I am in a hurry… Can you settle down?" The Dragonborn said.

The Ingenium thumped as loud as ever.

Delphine came to her senses. The Dragonborn's words were usually brief but with deeper meaning.

And Delphine believed she knew what it was.

The Dragonborn had always been embattled with the Thalmor, but had never taken side in this civil war.

He was in a hurry – that meant the Dragonborn wanted this to be done quickly.

Could they settle down – that was not only addressing the two about to fight, but also the two sides in the war.

"The Dragonborn has spoken." Delphine understood it was her responsibility as a Blade to declare the intent of the Dragonborn. She turned towards the Imperial legate and the Stormcloaks general. "You are obviously both here to see the Dragonborn – to ask for something. But you should know the Dragonborn will not be easily impressed with what you can offer, and now the Dragonborn has already told you what he wants."

Rikke raised her eyebrows at Delphine. "Who are you?"

"I am a member of the Blades." Delphine said solemnly.

Rikke widened her eyes slightly at the name of the organization – a group that was thought to be extinct and forgotten.

Galmar, who already knew Delphine, asked the more important question. "What does the Dragonborn want?"

Delphine gazed at the both parties, stating unwaveringly. "To negotiate an armistice."

* * *

 **AN: I looked it up; the word engine came from the Latin word** **ingenium** **. So I guess that's quite befitting.**

 **And here starts the civil war quest line.**


	35. §2: The Storm Before the Peace

**AN: This chapter is mostly about building up, so things would make sense. And it explains a little about why a certain person misidentified the Dragonborn if you look closely.**

* * *

 **The Bannered Mare, Whiterun City**

"Uh… You don't have noodles?"

Saitama delayed the celebration of having noodles for about a week since no one sold them in Helgen.

Now he was once again disappointed by the fact that there were no noodle in Whiterun either. Where did have those the last time? Saitama felt frustrated as he could not remember.

The female innkeeper gave an apologetic smile, most likely at Genos. "No. Sorry. Even if we do have noodles, the tavern is full today."

"Oh. I see… " Saitama only noticed now how crowded the inn was, with every table inside occupied. "Then we'll be leaving."

Without digging into the question _why_ the inn was full, Saitama and Genos left the place.

Right outside the tavern, two guards in the market place were talking to each other.

"… _I know the Dragonborn is in the Dragonsreach, holding a meeting of civil war truce. But I did not expect this many people flocking into Whiterun City."_

" _I heard it has become more than a truce conference. Every hold in Skyrim has sent its representative here. It is going to be a Moot too."_

" _A Moot? I thought it's never going to happen!"_

" _It is happening. The Dragonborn has spoken. Who can reject?"_

" _Yeah, I think you are right. The man is after all the strongest man on Nirn…"_

The guard's conversation failed to raise the attention of the two, while Genos thought of something.

Something about noodles…

* * *

 **Great Porch of Dragonsreach, Whiterun**

A Moot is a meeting in which representatives from each Hold of Skyrim chose a new High King from qualified members of the royal family. In fourth era, this gathering was more of a formality than practicality, since under the rule of the Empire, the Jarl of Solitude usually served as High King with the city being most influenced by Imperial culture.

This time, however, no one was certain how the meeting would end, as it also served as an armistice conference and more.

Much more.

No one could tell what exactly the meeting would bring for Skyrim.

To be exact, the meeting was a peace conference with a Moot as addition, not the other way around. All were due to Dragonborn's intention of settling down the situation in Skyrim quick. Namely, they would resolve the turmoil by bringing peace and electing a new High King. Then future of Skyrim would finally be poised.

As a truce negotiation, the most important figures from both sides of the civil war were present.

Now in the Great Porch, around a large table recently set up, more than thirty people stood, including the attendees and their retinue.

Balgruuf the Greater, as the Jarl of Whiterun, acted as the host before the Dragonborn's arrival.

On the Imperial side, the participants of noted were General Tullius – the head of Imperial military in Skyrim, Legate Rikke – Tullius' advisor, and Jarl Elisif the Fair of Solitude – the widow of late High King Torygg. Elenwen showed up as well, representing the Aldmeri Dominion, being the First Emissary of Thalmor.

The noteworthy members of Stormcloak delegation were Ulfric Stormcloak – the leader of the rebellion, and Galmar Stone-Fist – Ulfric's right-hand man.

Almost every attendees were here around the table, but none had taken a seat and the conference had not started.

The Dragonborn had not come.

The scene was reticent, with only barely audible whispers among the guests.

Anxiety simmered in the air.

All participants would not be able to set their minds at rest, not until they heard what the Dragonborn wanted.

They all knew the Dragonborn was the only person who would be undoubtedly benefited by this conference, yet no one complained. They just waited patiently.

Everyone had his or her own thoughts and speculations on the imminent event.

For one, Elenwen, the Thalmor ambassador, displeased immensely at where this war was going.

A truce that brought persistent peace to Skyrim was the worst scenario to the Dominion.

The most profitable case for them would be that the civil war dragged on as protracted as possible, until both sides were depleted of all their resources. And Elenwen was sent to encourage that – by stirring commotion in Skyrim with their covert agents and spies.

The second best case, while was up to debate among the strategists, Elenwen inclined to believe it was the victory of Stormcloaks after a full-scaled bloodied war. Unlike some naïve people tended to think, Elenwen was not here to _help_ the Empire to win this war, but to _push_ the Empire so they would not hold back. Therefore, even if the Stormcloaks won, as long as the Empire existed, the Dominion would keep pushing. There would still be a chance to reignite the warfare. And there were some other factors they could take advantage of, such as the tension between the Nords and other races in Skyrim.

On the other hand, if it were the Empire who prevail, things would not be much worse, as there would also be turbulence after war in Skyrim.

Among the many possible outcomes of this war, the worst for the Thalmor was unquestionably that the war stopped before much asset of Skyrim was spent. In fact, this would still be manageable if not for the emergence of this redoubtable Dragonborn.

Another thing agitated Elenwen was the location of choice for this meeting. It seemed deliberated.

Great Porch of Dragonsreach was once a trap and prison to ensnare dragon. Was the Dragonborn alluding something? Perhaps it insinuated the Dragonborn was so powerful that the dragon trap lied out of practice and could only be used as a gathering hall? Perhaps it suggested the people here were trapped under the influence of the Dragonborn and would find no escape? Perhaps it implied Dragonborn intended to follow the example of Olaf One-Eye and…

Elenwen's train of thought was disrupted when a creaking sound caught her off guard.

She turned her head and saw the gate of the porch swung wide open, from where three figures emerged.

Having never seen the Dragonborn in person, Elenwen noted that the leading man completely matched the description of the Dragonborn.

That must be him.

Elenwen knew what Ancano meant was never ' _a bold man_ and _a blond man'_.

There was only one person. And the man was both bold and blond.

The Dragonborn walked in with overwhelming presence.

Maybe it was only psychological effects amplified by the innumerous astounding rumors on the Dragonborn, but Elenwen felt her heartrate quicken, throat went dry, and muscles stiffened as the drew closer.

It was not until the Dragonborn had almost arrived at the table that Elenwen noticed the two persons trailing after.

The two were both members of the Blades.

Elenwen's face blanched more… if that was possible.

The two Blades consisted of one male and one female, both of whom the Thalmor had dossiers on.

The woman, a Breton in her fifties, was Delphine.

Delphine had been involved in several most damaging operations against the Dominion during the Great War. The Thalmor's attempts to hunt her down had never succeeded, including the time a team of assassins were killed by the woman. The Thalmor had classified her as a high priority target – an extremely dangerous one. Recently, it was reported that Delphine had been evading the purge in Skyrim, while still working actively. This was the first time in a long period that Delphine appeared in public without any disguise.

The other man behind the Dragonborn was an elderly Nord, Esbern.

Esbern, unlike Delphine, was not a field agent and was more of the scholar type. However, with extensive knowledge, the man had acted behind the scene and caused tremendous loss for the Dominion before the Great War. Esbern had not occupied the Thalmor's focus for many years, until the dragons returned. The man had become the most prioritized target for being an expert in the dragonlore, and according to the investigations, Esbern had been hiding in Riften. Nonetheless, the interest towards the man had decreased ever since the dragons started to diminish.

Elenwen did not expected Esbern would come out of hiding by himself, yet here he was. Esbern must have also heard of the news of the Dragonborn.

The Blades had no reason to hide anymore, that much Elenwen understood. Under the leadership of such a mighty Dragonborn, anyone would step out of the shadow and into the light.

Confidently, the Dragonborn strode to the head of the table and sat down, carrying the attention of everyone in the place.

The hall fell silent. One could easily hear a pin dropped at the moment.

The stillness seemed to last for eternity before the Dragonborn finally spoke up.

The Dragonborn nodded at the standing crowd. "Please, take your seats now."

Right on cue, all participants of the meeting settled down.

Actually… almost all.

Ulfric Stormcloak and his followers remained standing.

Ulfric was the one who casted the first stone.

"No, not yet." Ulfric was not about to sit down, and turned his head to the Imperial General. "Tullius, you insult us by bringing her to this negotiation? Your chief Talos-hunter?"

Elenwen knew that insolence brute was talking about her. That man was always so self-centered, arrogant and eager to express himself.

However, with the ability to lead an army, the man was not foolish. Since the Dragonborn was apparently against the Thalmor, this act was a clever tactic to bring the Dragonborn to his side.

Some people muttered under their breath at Ulfric's censure. Then the atmosphere grew heavy as Dragonborn shifted his gaze towards Elenwen. When the eye contact was made, Elenwen felt a shiver down her spine under the cold glare of the Dragonborn. For a second, she thought the Dragonborn was about to erase her from the face of the earth, which the Dragonborn could have done without breaking a sweat.

Truthfully, Elenwen did not want to be here either.

But she had no choice.

This meeting was likely one of the most important event ever since the signing of the White-Gold Concordat. The Dominion needed an official delegate in it, and they had given her instructions on the preferable result in this conference and, in case that things went south, their bottom-line.

Steadying her voice to hide her tremor, Elenwen responded to Ulfric's instigation. "I have right to be at this negotiation."

Elenwen was slightly bothered as her voice did not come out as firm as she wished, but strained and thin.

She forced herself to calm down even more, and reminded herself to speak with delicacy. No one could take the consequences of upsetting the Dragonborn.

Elenwen continued to elaborate. "The Dominion require me to observe this conference as it might affect our future directive."

Not wishing to risk provoking the Dragonborn, Elenwen decided it was best not to mention anything related to the Great War or the Concordat.

She was relieved when the Dragonborn turned his gaze again, this time, directed at Ulfric.

Ulfric was uncomfortable under the glare as well. Taken aback briefly, Ulfric swallowed down whatever remarks he was about to make.

Eerie silence befell once more, as the Dragonborn did not passed down his final judgement.

Delphine was the one broke the silence.

"Ulfric, sit down." Delphine ordered sternly. "Dragonborn is the host of the council. Someone will leave only if he says so."

Ulfric and his companions hesitated for a moment and muttered before reluctantly took their seats.

That served him right, Elenwen thought. Under any other circumstances, she would have gloated about this _victory_ over the Stormcloaks. But not today, since this victory did not belong to her, and she was as uncomfortable as the Stormcloaks. She actually considered Ulfric's action a wise decision.

As it seemed, no one could take a stand in front of the Dragonborn.

The Voice of the man was overpowering.

Uttering a word, the Dragonborn could end a battle. Articulating a speech, the Dragonborn could cease a war.

And now, satisfied at the lack of objection, the Dragonborn spoke.

"Let us proceed." The Dragonborn announced with his voice resonated through the hall. "I believe you all know who I am, so I will omit my self-introduction. We are all here for one reason and one reason only – to secure the future of Skyrim. We shall bear in mind that all of us… no matter which side we are on… we have people's best interest at heart."

Elenwen had once thought the Dragonborn was simply a brutish warrior with unmatchable strength, yet his words just proved her wrong.

The man knew of how to handle a diplomatic situation in a tactful way. Which made him even more dangerous.

He first emphasized his identity to deter the crowd. After that, what the Dragonborn said sounded convincing and agreeable, almost neutral as well. It was to pacify the participants.

From this point, the man took the full initiative of the council, if not already.

"This civil war has brought us nothing but bloodshed and tears. While the cause behind it may be noble, the result is only tragedy and misfortune. In the end, we all lose." The Dragonborn paused and looked around the table, waiting his words to sink in, before continuing. "The time has come to conclude this war. Let's cut the chase. On what condition are you willing to withdraw your army? Or more specifically, what do you really want?"

The question was without a doubt directing at General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak.

Elenwen found it bitter that she, an Altmer, was in no position to talk at time like this, and could only listen to these lesser races' argument. What was worse, she also knew the peace would definitely be achieved in this council, since that was what the Dragonborn desire.

The unanswered problem was how the peace would be achieved and at what price.

Dwelling in her thought, Elenwen was brought to present by Ulfric's voice as the Nord cleared his throat and laid out his conditions.

* * *

 **AN: This is the truce council in Skyrim, and is kind of different from ingame route since… well… the threat is not coming from the dragons but the** _ **Dragonborn**_ **himself, or so they thought…**

 **On a side note, you can imagine the mental activity of the** _ **Dragonborn**_ **is not as peaceful as his appearance.**


	36. §2: Don't Make War

**Great Porch of Dragonsreach, Whiterun**

 _The "Dragonborn" felt he was on the verge of a mental breakdown._

 _The peace council had never been his idea, and he had absolutely no intention to attend one, let alone host one._

 _Yet here he was, chairing the meeting._

 _It was all because of that woman, Delphine._

 _That day at Whiterun, the day a man and a woman had been arguing, he had only wanted move passed them quickly._

 _Delphine was the one who had misunderstood his meaning and had taken the liberty to arrange this conference._

 _To be honest, the woman scared him a lot._

 _Delphine was always serious and ready for battle…Experienced and battle-hardened as well…_

 _There were several times he had attempted to tell Delphine the truth that he was not the Dragonborn._

 _Every time, he wimped out._

 _He was quite certain if the truth came out, the woman would kill him herself for lying to her._

 _In the days living in Breezehome, he had spent every day plotting his escape – to run as far as Delphine as possible. But eventually, he realized if Delphine had been willing to travel across whole Skyrim to find the Dragonborn, there was no reason she would not find him again… She was doubtlessly a persistent woman._

 _No, there was absolutely nothing he could do about Delphine._

 _The same went for the council._

 _He would have to play along._

 _At the beginning of the meeting, when the first unexpected happened, namely when that Ulfric refused to sit down, he got so nervous that no word would come out. Fortunately, Delphine cut in and resolved the situation, and he did not let on any hint of his uneasiness._

 _Afterwards, he told himself repeatedly that he had to pull himself together and racked his brain to think of something highfalutin to say – mostly things he had read from fictions. Other than that, he prayed silently to whatever gods there were that this council would over soon._

 _Somehow, that worked rather well so far…_

 _Even though he had no idea what he was talking about…_

 _Taking a calming breath in discreet,_ _the strongest man on Nirn_ _tried hard to shake off the feeling that he was on the brink of meeting a violent end, and concentrated on following the course of the council._

 _It was indeed a matter of life and death, both for himself and for the people taking part in the civil war._

 _What had he gotten himself into?_

The two side in the civil war – the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloak Rebellion – had both presented their terms for truce.

While the way they stated their conditions had been tortuous in a political manner, their actual intents could be summarized in several relatively simple points.

Simple, yet significant, as they would dramatically affect the land.

It was, after all, not a temporary truce, but for lasting peace.

In other words, it was not a conflict of territory, but a conflict of ideology.

Ulfric's statement consisted of two main goals. Firstly, they wanted the ban on Talos worship abolished. Secondly, they wanted the Empire authority out of Skyrim, the Thalmor along with them naturally.

Tullius' statement also consisted of two main goals. One was that they wanted the Stormcloaks army disbanded and charged with treason. The other was that they wanted Ulfric Stormcloak to pay for his crime dearly, including the murder of King Torygg.

Now the cards were all on the table, both parties waited for the final judgement passed down from the _Dragonborn_.

Ulfric Stormcloak knew his previous probing failed, for the Dragonborn had revealed neither his opinion nor his stance on whether during Ulfric's protest of the Thalmor's participation.

In all truth, Ulfric did not want to be here. He did not like the feeling of his fate being held in someone else's hand, and he did not yearn for a truce. What he yearn for was victory.

But there would be no chance of victory if he were to fight the Dragonborn, that much was clear to Ulfric.

So here, he waited for verdict of the Dragonborn, powerless.

He would never speak it out loud, but he feared the Dragonborn, just like almost everyone on scene.

That was why he was startled when the Dragonborn announced his observation.

"You do know that," the Dragonborn pointed out, "Your conditions are not mutually exclusive and can be realized at the same time."

What was the man implied? Ulfric shuddered at the thought – the Thalmor, the Empire, and the Stormcloaks would all be wiped out from Skyrim, Talos worship would resume, and Ulfric himself would be sentenced – to death probably.

That left the Skyrim headless… Perhaps that was the ambition of the Dragonborn?

Ulfric looked the man in the eyes but could not tell anything. All he could perceive was the death looming upon him, and even with his past experiences of facing mortality, he was unnerved – not by death itself, but by hopelessness.

"That is one option." The Dragonborn continued after the prior halt. "Or you can both make some concession."

The man was very good at this, Ulfric just realized. By giving out that dreadful solution first, making some compromise sounded appealing.

Even knowing this was a tact of the Dragonborn, Ulfric was willing to take the bait, since this was possibly the only better choice. It did not matter whether it was out of the goodness of the Dragonborn's heart or not.

Comptemplating his words, Ulfric's attention absently drifted towards the Thalmor representative. He noted that Thalmor bitch, Elenwen, was oddly quiet during the course of the meeting, likely frightened by the dominance of the Dragonborn. The Altmer did not even voice her objection when Ulfric mentioned about allowing the Talos worship, which apparently against the White-Gold Concordat.

When Ulfric was still considering his response, General Tullius brought up their proposition first.

 _Host the council was quite hard, and he had slipped a little when commenting on the terms of the two sides._

 _It just came to him that all the conditions could be actualized simultaneously without contradictory, and he busted on that._

 _Then immediately he realized his mistake as no one would possibly take that lousy settlement._

 _So he quickly diverted the conversation back to the right track, where the two parties negotiate their terms._

 _Luckily, no one seemed to notice his error…_

Ulfric listened carefully as Tullius revealed their terms.

"The Dragonborn's remarks are reasonable." Tullius seemed eager to get the Dragonborn on his side and tried hard to show off his _generosity_. "If the Stormcloaks disassemble their army and surrender to the rule of the Empire, we can assure no action will be taken against them for their war effort. The things happened in the civil war will end with the war. That is the best we can offer."

Ulfric sneered at the self-righteous Imperial general internally, but chose to let it slide. It was not time for rebuttal.

Instead, Ulfric pondered those sentences cautiously, in particular, about the part 'under the rule of the Empire'. That was rather vague description and could take the meaning between 'it was only a formality' to 'every order from the Empire needed to be followed to the letter'. Or perhaps, Tullius said this so the Dragonborn could make final judgement. Ulfric suspected that was probably it, and decided not to question that statement, at least not now. Now he had to show his own goodwill towards the Dragonborn, lest he should lose the man's favor.

Ulfric made his decision on their demand, counting on the fact that the Dragonborn was unquestionably an enemy of the Dominion. "While details on that offer required further discussion, we will accept it upfront under two conditions – the Talos worship should be permitted in Skyrim, and the Dominion force should leave our land."

These two conditions actually differentiate Skyrim from the rest of the Empire, making the more rigorous govern from Empire nigh impossible. At least, that was what Ulfric hoped.

However, these two demands were not only directed at the Empire, but more towards the Dominion. And after finishing his statement, Ulfric stared at the Thalmor ambassador, Elenwen, defiantly. Through the corner of his eyes, Ulfric could see the Dragonborn also turned his head towards that direction.

To Ulfric's satisfaction, the Altmer's expression changed under the gaze of the Dragonborn, worse than before. The Thalmor agent looked towards General Tullius, as if asking for support. But the hinted request was ignored by Imperial General, who put his full attention on the negotiating table, intentionally or not.

Forlorn, the elven female paled with trepidation, but voiced out her protest nevertheless.

"This is outrageous." The elf exclaimed, yet the tremor in her voice betrayed her fear. "You can't expect us to make such a large concession with nothing in return. This completely violates the White-Gold Concordat, which is not part of the negotiation today."

Although the words of the Altmer were unyielding, Ulfric could see her body language told otherwise. With a proper nudge, the elf would give in at any moment.

Ulfric decided it was crucial that the Dragonborn should be the one to make that nudge.

Therefore, Ulfric did not answer the Atlmer straightforwardly, but shifted the responsibility to the Dragonborn.

"I believe we all agree Dragonborn would be the judge of that." Ulfric said before turning towards the Dragonborn. "What do you say?"

The scene fell silent as the crowd awaited the answer of the Dragonborn, who was glaring at them coldly.

 _He had thought not to take side in this negotiation to be his best option._

 _There was no need to anger any of those influential people, in case that someone should send assassins after him and such._

 _But that Ulfric had to pass the buck to him…_

 _Crap… What should he say in a situation like this?_

 _Nope, he could not think of a thing, since his mind just went blank without any good reason…_

The sound of Ingenium rose, coming from the chest of the Dragonborn, flowing through the air, and shaking everyone present.

All they could hear was the oppressive thumping, like the thunder before the storm.

And they all understood what it represented – the Dragonborn was not pleased and was ready to strike.

No one here could take his strike.

Strike who? Everyone knew the Thalmor were the Dragonborn's foes…

"W-wait." Swallowing hard, Elenwen spoke again, this time her dread showing undisguisedly. "Dragonborn, if this is what you desire, we will comply. As a representative of the Dominion, I wish to express our hope of burying the hatchet with you. Please consider this as a peace offering."

As Ulfric expected, Elenwen could not take the heat and succumbed.

He could hardly stifle a laugh when he saw all Elenwen received from her compromise was a stiff nod from the Dragonborn.

No gratitude. No promise of peace. Nothing was truly given by the Dragonborn except for maybe acknowledgement.

Yet the Altmer seemed finally relieved, slumping in her chair limply as the Dragonborn did not pursued the matter.

 _Oh good. It all worked out by itself._

 _He managed to contain his sigh of relief so no one noticed it._

 _Hold on. He just realized something – something quite obvious from the start._

 _The Thalmor recognized him as some sort of mortal enemy, did they not?_

 _Crap... This was bad. He recalled the Thalmor were keen on arranging assassination and such._

 _Why did he always encounter troubles like this?_

Witnessing the Thalmor bitch took a hammering was oddly rewarding experience for Ulfric.

And that settled the civil war.

The Stormcloaks disbanded, but would not be penalized. The Thalmor expelled, and Talos could be again openly worshipped in Skyrim.

Not something Ulfric would regard as a perfect result, but it was far from bad, especially when someone as powerful as the Dragonborn was involved.

However, this was only half of the battle.

The other half would be deciding who would be the next High King of Skyrim.

That was a position that Ulfric set his mind on.

Ulfric considered himself the most suitable candidate in a time like this.

 _The peace was brokered._

 _That was only half way through the conference._

 _Why did it take so long?_

 _He was not interested in politics at all. And while he had no fondness for the Thalmor, he did not want to fight them._

 _He simply wish the council could end right now._

 _He blamed Delphine inwardly – she was the one calling the Moot along with the truce council, thinking that was the Dragonborn's intention…_

 _Who was the Dragonborn anyway?_

 _Curse his luck…_

 _Wait, he just got an idea._

 _The Moot was supposed to a meeting where the Jarls of Skyrim chose the High King among themselves… So it was all right if he found a reason to depart first, right?_

 _Yeah, that could work._

 **AN: So actually no one wants to be in this council… except Delphine maybe?**

 **I'll do an unimportant disclaimer here:**

 **There are some negative comments on some characters in these chapter, but they by no means represent my (author's) opinions. They are only in the perspectives of their respective commenter.**


	37. §2: Make Noodles

**AN: Sorry for the late update, kinda busy recently…**

 **Last chapter was meant to be a sneak peek of the mentality of** _ **the strongest man on Nirn**_ **. You'll get more about his perspective later. Not this chapter, though. This chapter will be about Saitama.**

 **p.s. Being a bard is NOT a hobby of his either. That is just what Delphine assumed, and Delphine is almost always wrong in this fic, so… Yeah, I will explain in later chapters, and put the reason in my author's note also (including why I chose that hobby and why I made him a bard).**

* * *

What was happening in Dragonsreach did not concern Saitama, since the peace council held there was completely unbeknown to him. When the future fate of Skyrim was being decided in the tallest building of Whiterun with the _Dragonborn_ – or most people believed so, the only interest of Saitama lied in, unsurprisingly, noodles.

Genos said he had read a book which contained a recipe for noodles.

While making noodles themselves could take some effort, Saitama figured they should try it

He had nothing to do anyway.

However, he did veto Genos' idea of finding the book in the College of Winterhold. Making noodles should not be as hard as curing vampirism!

In the end, they settled for cooking according to Genos' memory on the recipe.

The next problem they encountered was that they could not seem to find any flour in the Whiterun city.

All flour was possible used up by the people swarmed into the town, for whatever reason.

Discouraged, the two left the city.

Then, on the path outside of Whiterun, they noticed something – a building.

Not too far from the city, some distance past the stable, there was a small farm sprawling on the other side of the road. And beside the farm, a windmill stood, with its sails rotating slowly in the breeze.

Seeing the scenery reminded Saitama of something.

"Genos, they use windmill to make flour, right?" Saitama asked his student.

"Yes, sensei." Genos replied, before adding, "I have both read it on the books and seen it personally. So I can confirm that."

"Oh. That's good!" Saitama was suddenly exhilarated. "We should go ask the farmers if they have some flour."

"Great idea." Genos said as he trailed behind Saitama diligently.

Currently, there was no one tending the crops and the farm was practically empty, except for one cow and two chickens. So the farmer were probably inside their home.

Saitama increased his walking speed, and the two arrived in front of the farmhouse in no time. When Saitama was just about to knock on the door, Genos spoke up.

"Sensei, I detected something is approaching." Genos exclaimed, looking to his right.

Saitama followed Genos' eye movement and saw what the blond was talking about.

A giant, holding a giant club like all his kin did, was running towards their rough direction from distance.

Giants were quite a common sight in Skyrim, and Saitama did not find it surprising.

While the speed of a giant was quite fast for regular traveler, it was technically slow for something of that size. Saitama considered it slow as well.

And why did they run like that? Saitama wondered.

When a giant ran, it moved in a way like a mix between bouncing and lurching. Not a very efficient way to advance. Maybe it was due to their enormous weight?

It took quite a while for the giant to approach the farm, and Saitama decided to watch what it was going to do.

Giants were usually relatively unaggressive as long as there was not intruder in their territory. However, some would attack farmlands, for the farmers did not offer them cows as sacrifice, or for whatever reason giants have.

This was very likely one of those attacks.

The lone giant drew closer, heavy footsteps shaking the earth.

When the giant finally arrived before the two, it raised its weapon high, pointing towards the sky and ready to smack down.

Genos dodged aside.

Saitama yawned boredly.

At the time the club swinging towards where Saitama currently stood and Genos previously stayed, Genos launched a fireball at the giant's foot in hope of disrupting its balance, and Saitama threw his fist up.

Only one of the strikes landed solid.

The speed of the giant's wooden stick was too slow and the attack was interrupted midway by Saitama's punch, while Genos' spell went wide since the giant moved its position under the force of Saitama.

Not casting a second glance towards the giant, Saitama put his attention on something more severe – Genos' fire spell did not just completely missed the original target, but hit a chicken – just when a farmer appeared in the doorway of the farmhouse.

* * *

Farkas rubbed his eyes right after he spotted a shape looking a lot like a giant flew away from a farm and disappeared as it crashed into the other side of the mountains.

It was quite distant from the group he was in, and Farkas was not sure if he saw it correctly.

Most of all, he was quite certain that giants could not fly.

Then again, Farkas never considered himself a smart one.

"Aela, giants can't fly, can they?" Farkas asked the female Nord next to him.

"What are you talking about?" Aela frowned, incredulous, as if she just saw someone really stupid. "Of course they can't, icebrain. Is there any particular for that foolish question?"

"None of you saw that?" Farkas looked at his two female fellow warriors – Aela and Ria. "I think I just saw a giant flew over the mountains."

Ria shook her head, confused at the statement, while Aela did the same, but more in disdain.

"No, you misperceived it." Aela waved him off, dismissive. "Maybe you are just getting too excited about fighting a giant."

"Maybe…" Farkas supposed that was the only explanation, since he had never heard of a force that could make something as large as a giant soar that far. "It has been a long time since our last good battle. I can really use some right now."

"Then we should get moving." Aela lead the group forward. "The bounty letter says there is a giant frequently attacking the farmlands around the Whiterun City. We need to patrol the place to find where this giant locates, and take it down."

"Let's not waste any time." Farkas nodded, jogging behind Aela.

And Ria, the newest member of the Companions, fell in line.

The Companions were a faction of warriors based in a Nordic longhouse in Whiterun. They were essential soldiers for hire, taking contracts of both public and private. However, different from regular mercenaries, the Companions valued the bonds between each other, regarding themselves as close as siblings, and were obliged to fight their battles with honor. Moreover, to prevent infight between the Companions, they should never join any side in a war.

Therefore, at this time when the whole Whiterun City was unsettled by the affairs of civil war, these three Companions were hunting a giant.

This was also a test for the new member, Ria, to prove her honor.

However, before they could find any trace of the giant – except for the previous misreport from Farkas, they found another fight.

It was a fight involving two farmer and one warrior.

In fact, it was more like one of the farmer was attacking the other two men with an iron dagger, Farkas deduced.

The other farmer, a bald one, was simply dodging the blade with rather impressive speed while pushing the warrior aside.

It was indeed a strange sight.

* * *

Killing a chicken was a serious offense in Skyrim, that much Saitama knew, as he had seen several times an adventurer getting chased and attacked by an entire town after doing so.

He had never tried that personally, since he had no interest in fighting either a chicken or a group of civilians.

He never really understood the reason behind these phenomena either. What was so important about one chicken? It was not as if those animals were some sort of sacred beasts or something. People around the province ate chicken meat.

And now, Saitama was in this awkward position, where the owner of the chicken was trying to slash he and Genos with a dagger, and Genos looked ready to fight as well.

Maybe Genos was only attempting to intimidate the farmer, Saitama could not tell for sure. But he had no time to ask the spellsword, and was sure of one thing – they were not going to risk harming over a chicken.

So currently, Saitama was simultaneously avoiding the dagger from cutting up his clothes and shoving Genos aside so the blond would not cut up the farmer.

At least the action did not take much effort from Saitama. On a second thought, nothing happening these days did. Saitama was once again getting dispirited at his unchallenging life…

Idly, Saitama wondered he should keep acting like this until the farmer tired out or just grab Genos and make themselves scarce.

Or perhaps he should disarm the farmer?

Before Saitama could make up his mind, however, some people intruded.

One man and two women, all of whom well-armed with varies types of heavy armor, approached and pulled a stop next to the fighting band – almost injected between them, actually.

The farmer, noticing the imposing newly-come warriors, finally halted his sluggish hacking and stepped back.

The three Companions decided to intervene in this ridiculous scene.

"What is going on here?" Aela asked the two farmers and one warrior, most likely a spellsword.

"They killed my chicken!" One of the farmer who was holding a dagger exclaimed.

"They what?" Farkas frowned in disbelief.

The reason for this fight was that those two men killed a chicken?

Aela scowled with distaste, while Ria squinted quizzically.

Was the man saying what they thought he was saying?

"I said, they _killed my chicken_!" The farmer repeated himself. "With a fireball!"

This was preposterous.

Farkas was not sure these men were serious, and he looked around to see if there was anything that could confirm the statement.

Then he saw a dead chicken lying in the pan, with burnt marks on it as well.

So it was the truth.

When Farkas just about to scold these men, Aela beat him to it.

"How dare you kill someone else's chicken?" The huntress blurted out. "That is a valuable animal!"

* * *

Saitama felt the urge to facepalm himself when the newly arrived warriors drew their weapons over the death of the chicken.

That was just great… More people here to avenge the dead animal…

What was with this obsession about a chicken?

"It was an accident! Accident!" Saitama waved his arms. "That spell was aiming at a giant."

Genos also spoke, as if finally realizing his mistake. "Sensei, I am sorry to cause this trouble, and I will pay to compensate the loss of the chicken."

That actually calmed the hostility somewhat.

Well… at least it calmed the hostility of the warriors, who lowered their weapons slightly.

Or perhaps it distracted them, as they started to talk about a topic unrelated to chicken.

"Hold on. You saw a giant?" The same woman that spoke up before inquired. "When? Where did it go?"

"Uh… Just a moment ago." Saitama was glad this was not about _the valuable animal_ anymore. But wasn't this subject change a bit too fast? "I'm not quite sure where it vanished to, though…"

That was the truth, since the death of the chicken had attracted all his attention at that moment.

Genos, on the other hand, did notice where.

"Sensei, I believe the giant disappeared over the hills." Genos provided helpfully.

"See? That's what I said." The male warrior claimed, overexcited. "I knew I didn't see it wrong."

"Fine." The woman shook her head, sighing. "Let go over the hills and check it out. "

Then the three warrior departed the site in a row, but did not forget to leave one final warning about slaying the animals of others being a serious crime.

Saitama blinked at the parting figures, unsure what to think of.

So these guys were not here for the chicken, but for the giant? Why would they want to find a dead giant?

Wait, did they knew the giant was already dead? If not, should he inform them about it?

Probably not.

If the giant was their pet or something, Saitama doubted he and Genos could pay for that loss. That would likely be more troublesome than this chicken incident.

Besides, the giant attacked them first, so those guys should not let such a dangerous creature running lose in the first place. Hence, Saitama concluded it was not his fault.

Now, with Saitama, Genos and the farmer being the only ones in the farm, it was time to settle the chicken business.

He simply hoped the situation would not grow drastic again.

* * *

The three Companions took the winding path around the mountainside, and they eventually found the giant near the Riverwood.

That was somewhat a long way from the farmlands with giant appearance.

And it looked like the giant had crashed into the mountain stones.

The deceased giant was, euphemistically speaking, lack of structural integrity. In other words, it was a smashed blood pulp of flesh and bones.

Farkas guessed it was the result of the crash.

Still, the question remained – how did the giant fly here?

At least the giant did not grow wings and such.

So perhaps this was caused by magic, since Farkas had not seen anything large enough to knock a giant flying back there.

Unfortunately, the Companions present did not know much about magic.

And it could be that some powerful mage casted a spell and threw the giant towards the sky. Or, though unlikely, the giant somehow gained the magic amplitude to help itself fly, but could not control the direction properly and collided into the boulder.

After the three took their time examining the surroundings and the carcass of the giant, they found that the evidences were inconclusive.

Maybe it was best to let the mystery be, for the solution completely eluded them.

Other than that, they also needed to find another trial for their new member, as the giant was apparently deader than a doornail.

* * *

 **AN: The first time I played Skyrim, I killed a chicken immediately after arriving at Riverwood. Then the whole town attacked…**

 **Later, I looked up online, and found this is a rather common scenario in a first playthrough, isn't it…**

 **Skyrim logic.**


	38. §2: Season Unending

**AN: Well… in case you haven't noticed, this fic is all about perspectives. (In the sense that what a character thinks is often wrong…) Or you can call it information asymmetry if you want to sound scholarly.**

* * *

 **Dragonsreach, Whiterun City**

The _Dragonborn_ let out a sigh of relief after he was finally alone again.

He had excused himself from the council, stating it was the Jarls' responsibility to select a new High King and he should not intervene, and he needed to go so he could _train himself_ , privately.

Then he had walked out of the council with no one trying to stop him.

Delphine was not following him either.

Now out of the woods, he would go back to Breezehome, do something he liked, and forget all about this bad experience.

He went straight back to Breezehome, poured himself some drinks, but accidentally spilled the whole bottle because of his unsettled emotion. Cleaning up the mess, he proceeded inside his room on the second floor, locked himself inside, and pulled out his sketches.

His hobby was drawing, yet not the traditional paintings. What he drew were something similar to picture books, or, as people like him preferred to called it, comics. These were not mainstream in Tamriel, and were considered as informal by most people, but had their popularity in some particular groups. The _Dragonborn_ was among those groups.

He drew many kinds of comics, and the one he was currently drafting was named "Doki Doki Sisters" – some sort of fantasy love story. Brushing off his memory of the council, he did his best to focus on his pen and paper.

Unbeknownst to him, the people around the table had become anxious about his departure, assuming the action had deeper meaning than it seemed.

* * *

 **A farm near Whiterun City**

On the bright side, the farmer did not attempt to attack them after the three strange warriors left to find the giant, and the hassle was settled with Genos paying for the farmer's loss.

On the not so bright side, they did not produce flour in this farm.

As a matter of fact, Saitama learned they did not grow any kind of grains in this farm.

Then what was the windmill for?

Saitama waved it off as another unsolved mystery of Skyrim.

Saitama and Genos had to travel to the next farm to find the ingredient, only to be told that flour was sold out there.

Eventually, at the third farm visited, they successfully purchased some flour they needed.

They also bought some other ingredients, like eggs and vegetables. Other than that the dead chicken Genos had killed was brought along, since technically, Genos bought it.

So chicken noodle it was.

Now, where should they cook the noodle?

Saitama decided their old camp would be a good option.

* * *

 **Outside of Whiterun City**

Elenwen had left the Great Porch after the Moot had started.

She understood it was purposeless for her to stay at the meeting and most participants did not welcome her at any rate. The Dragonborn had departed from the council as well, and she surmised that it was a test to access the Jarls of Skyrim.

That was none of her business right now, and here she wandered around the outskirt of the city, wishing to have some time to herself thinking alone.

The result of the Moot hardly mattered for the Dominion, as the peace council had already took a lamentable turn for them.

It was clear in the beginning that a permanent truce would be negotiated. Yet the Thalmor being expelled from Skyrim was the worst-case scenario of the conference, although not an entire unexpected one. Still, it was hard for her to swallow the failure, as she had fallen completely helpless under the deterrence of the Dragonborn.

Doubtlessly, that Dragonborn was a major problem to the Dominion and the supremacy of the Altmer.

It was bitter and almost unfair that they – the Altmer, the people with highest culture and the true descendants of Aedra – had all their hard works rendered useless by this single man.

Only one man.

Elenwen's heart sank further.

At this rate, she would never see the day when the Dominion's ideal came true.

Even the barbaric tradition of Talos worship was permitted again in Skyrim.

Elenwen let out a sigh, strolling further from the city gate.

There was nothing she could do right now, except for waiting the result of the Moot and reporting it back to the Dominion, so their authority could utilize the information to decide their next action.

And she was growing restless and depressed during this time of waiting.

* * *

 **Saitama's old camp near Whiterun City**

Making noodles was quite troublesome, Saitama concluded.

Apparently, after having gone through the hassle of getting flour and made some dough out of it, the dough had needed to rest – for a couple of hours...

Saitama had decided he should rest too, and taken a nap at the camp.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that Genos was not at the camp. Then, looking around in the encampment, he found a note left by Genos, which said the spellsword was going to the city to buy some vegetables.

Vegetables... Saitama had totally forgotten about that.

He guessed there were some perks traveling with Genos after all.

Yawning, Saitama got up and walked to the place where the dough rested.

He checked on the dough, only to realize he could not recall any instruction from the recipe Genos had dictated.

Slightly frustrated, Saitama had no other choice but to wait for Genos to come back.

* * *

Elenwen was more than slightly frustrated as she could not find any resort to vent her anger and frustration after the conference.

The need for some distraction was almost desperate for her.

Indeed, she had to find some distraction now lest she should keep on remembering the stern face of the Dragonborn, her own fear and her powerlessness.

Although she was a diplomat, Elenwen was not in the mood for politics or anything similar. She wanted something less complicated – something more straightforward and perhaps violent.

Tapping into her old memories as a Thalmor interrogator, Elenwen grasped what she desired.

She desired to hurt someone – preferably, some human.

It might seem to be a twisted thought for many, whereas for someone like Elenwen – a loyal partisan of the Dominion and a true believer of Altmer superiority – it was simply like taking out the trash. She would not felt sorry for the injury or even death of these lesser races.

In truth, if possible, she wished she could kill the Dragonborn, but that would be extremely impractical. So Elenwen would have to settle for some less important person. In fact, she probably should choose someone inconspicuous, in case that the Dragonborn, who was still in town, found out.

It was when dwelling in these thought of hers, Elenwen had a glimpse of something worth a note – an encampment with the semblance of a bandit camp.

She knew immediately this was what she was looking for – a perfect target to loose her temper on.

There was no way Elenwen would lose the fight against some regular bandits.

Besides, no one would miss these scum when they disappeared.

Approaching the camp, Elenwen was a little disappointed as there was only one bandit there.

A bald man dressed in regular clothing.

After taking a closer look, Elenwen realized the man was likely not even a bandit. The farmer clothes, the unimpressive appearance and the bland facial expression all indicated that this man probably had not seen one battle in his petty life.

Just an ordinary civilian.

Civilian or not, Elenwen did not care. As long as no one else would found out, she was willing to kill him to relieve her own ire.

It was, after all, a rather secluded camp.

Elenwen cracked an almost psychopathic smile as she readied her spell.

The only blemish in this battle was that the target was likely too helpless to fight back, which would definitely take away some of the excitement.

There again, Elenwen was not exactly here to fight either, but to let out her oppressed negative feelings about that Dragonborn.

She did not need a strong opponent at the moment.

* * *

Saitama was considering to go back to sleep, as a strange female elf in some sort of uniform showed up.

Then, without a single word spoken, the elf attacked, casting shock spell with both hands.

Geez, not again…

The worst aspect of staying in this camp was being mistaken as some bandit.

And Saitama always felt annoying when people started to attack without warning – they might ruin his properties.

At least the first strike from that elf was nowhere near the luggage or the dough.

* * *

Elenwen was not certain how she could miss at this distance, especially when casting chain lightening.

Actually, she was quite sure her spell had landed true, if not for the fact that the man remained completely unaffected.

Then the bald man spoke. "Uh… I think you are misunderstanding. I am not a bandit. Not everyone camping is a bandit, you know? It would be nice if you ask before attacking…"

Why was this man not afraid at all? Perhaps the man was just simple-minded. Or perhaps the man was so unacquainted to the dangers that he could not recognize one.

One way or another, it only confirmed one thing – her strike had missed due to her carelessness.

After that lightening spell, which was highly familiar with, had failed to hit that peasant, who looked awfully incompetent, she felt she was about to lose control.

That would be the final straw for her in this appalling day, where everything had gone wrong.

It was driving her insane.

Elenwen laughed madly as she fell into hysteria.

"Bandit or not," Elenwen said in a voice higher and louder than she expected, "You are going to die! I will kill you slowly and painfully! Run all you want! But it will not change the inevitable outcome…"

The bald man simply stared at her, as if seeing some rare animal.

Elenwen channeling the magic electricity to her both hands, while continuing her monologues.

"… I will strike you down first! But I won't stop there. Maybe I should skin you alive and… "

Elenwen's chain lightening launched again.

Then suddenly, darkness took her.

What was wrong with that elf woman?

Saitama frowned at the limp shape of the strange woman who he had just knocked out.

That woman was rude and crazy, and if he had not knocked her unconscious, she would possibly destroy every fragile things in the camp with that shock spell. Chain lightening indeed tended to bounce around and cause casualty around the caster.

Such spell being in the hands of a lunatic was definitely harmful to others… and others' properties.

Saitama figured he maybe should do something about it.

"Sensei! I got the vegetables!"

The voice of Genos disrupted Saitama's musing.

Looking down towards the senseless woman and then towards Genos and the bag of vegetables, Saitama made up his mind.

The crazy woman could wait. He would have his noodles first.

The noodles were _much more_ important than this nutcase of questionable origin was.

* * *

 **Breezehome, Whiterun City**

Several hours had passed since the _Dragonborn_ had left Dragonsreach, and he just heard someone was knocking on the door of his room.

He opened the door to see, unsurprisingly, Delphine.

What was she doing here? Was the council over?

"Congratulations, Dragonborn." The woman said. "Things worked out as you expected."

He expected… What did he expect? More precisely, what did Delphine think he was expecting?

He had a bad feeling about this.

"Can you elaborate on that?" He asked cautiously.

"Your intention was clear to everyone at the council." Delphine said. "The place of choice spoke loudly."

His intention? Why did he not know that? And the place of choice? He simply chose a random place for the meeting… Or perhaps it was Delphine who chose that place in the first place? He could not remember now.

Delphine continued her explanation, not noticing the strange expression on the _Dragonborn_ 's face. "Great Porch was the place where Olaf One-Eye won his battle against the Dragon Numinex. Olaf was also named High King of Skyrim because of this deed."

"A dragon vanquisher who became the High King of Skyrim…" He was thinking out loud.

"Yes," Delphine stated firmly, "They chose you as the next High King of Skyrim."

WHAT!?

Did he hear it right?

No! He did not want to be a King at all!

"It is fairly unorthodox, since High King is traditionally chosen among the Jarls. They know you currently need your own time and space as a Dragonborn, and did not want to rule over a hold, which often involves insignificant trifles unworthy of your attention. You will not become a Jarl but become the new High King, who rules over the Jarls." Delphine did not paid any mind on his now paled face. "Skyrim require a strong leader. No one is a better candidate than you, and you have the highest reputation in whole Skyrim as well. Many believe that tradition can be created when a legend rises. You, Dragonborn, are indisputably a legend on earth. Even though there were some voices of opposition, Ulfric in particular, the final decision was made without controversy…"

Delphine kept on explaining the course of the Moot, as she assume the _Dragonborn_ – no, it was King now – wanted her to.

Yet King could not hear in a single word, as if his ear turned deaf.

Turned deaf from the shock.

What had he gotten himself into…

How in the world did he just became King?

* * *

 **AN: It takes a King to be King, you know?**

 **Anyways, I decided to make King an amateur manga artist. Not a best match, but it's the best I can think of. So if you have better ideas, you are welcome to tell me.**

 **The reasons for my decision:**

 **It's a no-need-to-go-out and no-need-to-interact-with-others hobby.**

 **Even though drawing manga is not in the lore, it is possible TES, since you only need pen and paper.**

 **He get to draw some awkward genre, like the genre of the video games he prefers.**

 **Saitama. Well… to be more specific, I need something he and Saitama can be related, like in the OPM. And Saitama read manga, right? Besides, I recall there is some kind of omake in ONE's version of OPM that shows Saitama and ONE are drawing a woman or something. (And the woman they drew ended up almost none-human.) My memory is a bit of blur and I can't seem to find that chapter…**

 **I think that's about it. As a side note, I did not put playing instrument as the man's hobby mainly because of Saitama – Saitama does not really strike me as a guy loving to listen to music. And I can't even describe how out of place it is the mental image of Saitama and King playing instruments together… Yeah, not a pretty sight.**

 **Other than that, I made King a bard because that is a profession that hardly need to fight but get to travel around.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	39. §2: To Heart's Uncontent

**AN: Since you guys are real awesome readers, I don't want make this news too abrupt, so I will say something here in advance.**

 **There will be one more chapter after this one, and part two of the story will end. Then, I will have to pause the story for a while. But be assured, I will continue as fast as I can. The formal announcement will be in the next chapter, where I'll explain more.**

* * *

The man entitled as King was completely shaken up.

No, that was an understatement.

To be precise, he was overwhelmed, traumatized and mortified.

How did he end up here, being King?

Before this whole mess of being called Dragonborn, he was simply a bard. Not a good one either. He only did it as a job to feed himself.

But since he was not quite professional in his job and could only perform a limited list of songs, he had not been able to get a fixed work schedule in one inn. And he had to travel around Skyrim to earn his living.

That was where everything had went wrong.

He had always had the worst luck ever.

It had even gotten worse lately.

Recently, he had happened to be at the site of a dragon attack on many occasions. However, he had not been there as a hero, but an unlucky victim. That was the origin of his scars. Coincidentally, every time when he had been running away from the attack, someone else would have slay the dragon, shattering it into thousands of pieces.

Then, people had started to mistake him as the Dragonborn simply because he had been at the scene too many times.

It had not seemed to be a big deal in the beginning – someone would randomly give him a small amount of money, food or drinks with or without stating the reason, men and women around him would be friendlier, and so on.

It had felt rather good at that time, and he had not wanted to ruin the people's mood, so he had not denied it earnestly.

He had no idea back then it would snowball into this situation.

A situation involving the both sides of the civil war and the Thalmor.

Thinking about the Thalmor gave King headaches.

That time when the Thalmor Embassy had collapsed, he had also been near the site, slipping on the ice by accident and knocking himself unconscious. After he had woken up and resumed his journey, the Embassy had already been gone, and he had chosen to scurry away in a haste, not wishing to be implicated by that event.

It had not worked out.

According to Delphine, she had confirmed his appearance as the Dragonborn ever since that incident. Later, she had been diligently searching all over Skyrim for him, including the time she had almost found him in the tavern of Winterhold – he had been staying there for a while since Winterhold did not have bard.

All the unfortunate coincidences added up the encounter in Dragonsreach, the peace council, and now… he being the High King of Skyrim

What should he do?

What _could_ he do?

He felt his throat dry, his stomach churning, and his heart pounding ferociously.

The woman Delphine was still reporting the flow of the Moot, but he could not register a single word.

He could not even keep looking at the woman in her eyes, as dizziness overtook him.

No, no, no, this could not be happening.

King wanted to laugh at this ridiculous result, but not a muscle moved under his petrified state.

His mind drifted, and his gazed followed.

Finally, his eyes stopped at the door of the only other room on the second floor of Breezehome.

He guessed people sometimes noticed insignificant things when in extreme circumstances – probably due to the brain not functioning correctly.

As of now, the only thing King thought of was why that the door was not tightly shut.

Maybe it was just that Delphine forgot to close it.

Insignificant, indeed.

But he kept staring blankly.

* * *

The Thalmor assassin hiding in the guest room on the second floor of Breezehome was, to put it mildly, nervous about his current predicament.

He had entered Breezehome while Dragonborn and his followers were away in Dragonsreach. From then on, the assassin had been preparing for, of course, the assassination of the Dragonborn.

But all his attempts had failed – all brushed off by the Dragonborn with ease. All the traps he had set up had all been casually avoided. All the opportunities of strikes had been blocked by the Dragonborn's stance. Moreover, the poisonous drinks he had prepared had been threw out by the Dragonborn in an almost accidental manner.

The Dragonborn's actions were all so natural, but also impeccable.

Did the Dragonborn know he was here or not?

The assassin had been becoming more and more anxious as time passed by. He had the feeling that the Dragonborn had already found him in the beginning and was only toying with him.

But he could not tell for sure, and he chose to carry on his mission.

That was until just now, when the Dragonborn started to stare directly at him with Ingenium invigorating in full force.

The assassin could hear the pumping clearly in this distance.

How did the Dragonborn know he was here?

The Dragonborn just saw through his invisibility spell and muffle spell as if they were not even there!

The assassin realized he should have guessed the Dragonborn's ability was beyond imagination.

That meant the man had definitely known he was here in the first place.

So all his efforts were futile from the start, and this was probably just a game for the Dragonborn – a game to relieve the man's boredom or curiosity.

Presently, the Dragonborn was finally tired of fooling around, and decided to deal with him.

The assassin believed that must be it.

The question was, with no chance of winning, what the assassin would do in this plight.

* * *

"… Esbern stayed behind to discuss the details of arrangement about your moving in to Castle Dour in Solitude… Is there something wrong, Dragonborn?" Delphine finally noticed King was no focusing on her.

That brought King back to reality.

"Yes?" He replied with barely audible uncertainty, shifting his gaze back to Delphine, only to find Delphine turned her attention to the door he had been staring at before.

It scared the life out of King, when the door suddenly swung open.

What the… ?

Then a masked elf appeared abruptly as some sort of spell wore out – invisibility, most likely.

Delphine narrowed her eyes, readying her weapon at the same time. "Thalmor assassin!"

What? Thalmor assassin?

He had a Thalmor assassin in his house?

King _knew_ he should not have piss the Thalmor off!

"How did you get in here?" Delphine asked the intruder.

The assassin gave King an agitated glance before speaking in husky voice. "I picked the lock and sneaked in when you were at the council."

Wait, that assassin was here _the whole time_ after he got back?

King felt his throat clenched again, while sweating profusely.

He had spent hours under the same roof alone with someone trying to kill him _for hours_!

It must be by some sort of miracle that he was still alive.

Unconsciously, King raised his hand to touch his neck – to make sure his head was still attached.

The assassin, however, misunderstood the meaning of that action, and his eyes immediately flickered with fear. Thinking for a second, the assassin made up his mind and silently took a step forward.

King's heart rate picked up even more seeing the assassin's movement.

Crap! The guy was making a move, was he not? King was not sure how to react. Retreating to his quarter was a bad idea, since there was only one entrance in the room and he would have nowhere to run after the assassin managed to open the door. Making a break for it now was highly impossible because of the assassin and Delphine blocking his way... Delphine! Yes, he could simply let the woman take care of the attacker!

As if on cue, Delphine spoke up with scorn. "You are really so foolish that you believe you can conceal your trace from the Dragonborn?"

King looked towards Delphine. Why hadn't she taken action?

What if she was waiting for him to deal with the assassin? What if the assassin attacked right now and Delphine did not stop it because she thought he could protect himself? What if…

King almost jumped when the intruder flopped down on his knees without any warning.

What was the guy doing?

Was this a prelude of some strange assassination technique from Summerset Isles?

Was he going to die?

"No," The assassin did not strike, but said with a tremor in his voice, "N-now I know the Dragonborn has discovered me since he entered the house, and there is nothing I can do to harm him. All of this was a horrible mistake. I should never have entered the Dragonborn's place. P-please forgive my intrusion. I am so so so sorry for what I did."

King blinked as he realized the Thalmor assassin was shaking violently and begging pathetically.

And the assassin assumed King had taken note of the breaking in from the start?

It did not matter. King was just relieved to know the assassin did not dare to conduct the assassination.

"Spineless Thalmor lackey." Delphine sneered in disdain, before turning her head to King. "Dragonborn, how would you like to handle the situation? Do you want to kill the assassin yourself?"

 _What!?_ Kill the assassin?

King did not remember the last time he had kill something other than bugs, let alone someone. Besides, how would he kill a person? It was not the problem of whether he _should_ do it, but whether he _could_ do it…

Why that woman always wanted him to something beyond his ability?

King was afraid that his own voice would betrayed his fright, so instead of replying with words, he shook his head slowly.

King wished the woman comprehended what he meant as he saw Delphine nodded at his gesture.

"I understand, Dragonborn." Delphine then swirled towards the assassin. "The Dragonborn will let you live. You can leave the house now, under one condition – you will go back and send a message to the Dominion."

King figured that would worked. Just send the assassin back to where he came and tell those who wanted to kill him to back off.

Then Delphine said, "Tell them they can send assassins all they want. The Dragonborn will show them there is nothing that can hurt him."

What!?

NO!

He should had _never_ _ever_ let Delphine talk for him!

It always ended up like this.

What was her problem! She was going to get him kill!

King felt like crying as the assassin scurried away in haste and Delphine dusted her hands satisfyingly.

He was definitely going to die because of this Dragonborn mess – sooner or later.

And it really seemed would be sooner rather than later…

* * *

On this night, the Thalmor delegation departed in a hurry without their head, Elenwen.

When the Moot had been proceeding, Elenwen had gone for a walk but never returned afterwards. Moreover, the assassination of the Dragonborn the Dominion arranged had failed miserably.

Assessing the situation, they concluded it was extremely likely that the ambassador had been taken out by the Dragonborn.

It must be a retaliation.

And they had to get out of Skyrim as soon as possible, for the sake of their lives.

Besides, if none of them survived this, who could report the severity of the situation back to the Dominion?

* * *

The next morning after they had noodles, Saitama belated remembered there was still an unconscious woman lying next to their camp.

The elf was currently slumping in the dirt, breathing evenly.

Saitama assumed it was a matter of time before she woke up.

"Genos, why didn't you remind me she is still here yesterday?" Saitama asked his disciple.

"I thought it is part of your plan, sensei." Genos replied respectfully.

Seriously? When was the last time he made a _plan_? Saitama could not even recall. In fact, Saitama believe after acquiring this unmatched strength with his training, he did not make much planning anymore… Oh yeah, maybe except for planning to catch up on a sale.

"Never mind." Saitama chose to dismiss that topic. "We will just drop her off at the guard barracks in Whiterun. It's dangerous to let this aggressive crazy woman run around freely."

"Yes, sensei. I will take note of that."

Hence, the two hefted the Thalmor ambassador into the city and dumped her in front of some guards, stating the elf was crazy and had attacked them without any reason. Then Saitama and Genos left Whiterun, heading back to Helgen.

At least they had noodles.

* * *

 **AN: I have actually planned for King to be mistaken as the Dragonborn very early on, and he did make appearance in like chapter 8 and something. I figure if someone is called King in TES universe, he must be a King, or else it won't make sense.**

 **In fact, Saitama and Genos has seen King before, but just not with enough impression to remember the encounter. So they will formally meet in some later chapters (part three).**


	40. §2: All Hail the King

**AN: This is the final chapter of part two. The announcement on future updates is at the end of the chapter, and is kinda long. So read it if you want.**

* * *

Elenwen woke up with severe headache. Holding her head with one hand, she sat up slowly to look at her surroundings.

She was in cramped chamber enclosed by stonewalls. The room was mostly empty with a crude bed as the only furniture, and the air was damp, fouled with rotten smell. Finally, as her eyes set on the iron bar door, Elenwen realized where she was.

She was in a prison cell.

Hold on, a prison cell? How did she end up in a prison cell?

She was the First Emissary of the Thalmor!

What happened before she got here was a blur, and Elenwen could not recall anything after the council at Dragonsreach with her throbbing head.

The council!

She needed to get the result of the Moot and report everything back to the Dominion!

Elenwen pulled herself up from the floor… Really? Whoever dropped her here did not even put her on the bed? Elenwen shook her head disapprovingly but without stopping her movement. She scrambled around in slight dizziness, reaching for the cell door.

"Guard…" Elenwen called out, finding her voice hoarse from the lack of water. She cleared her throat, and shouted again. "Guard!"

After the eighth time she called, a man dressing in Whiterun guard attire showed up belatedly, strolling in a casual pace.

"What? What is it this time?" The guard asked impatiently.

"Why are you holding me here? You have no right to do so!" Elenwen was impatient as well. "You know who I am? I am Elenwen, an ambassador of the Dominion!"

Even though the Dragonborn had ruled the Thalmor out, it would not take effect this fast and Elenwen's identity would still be able to get her out from this situation. At least that was what she hoped.

"Oh, you are an ambassador? Really?" The guard taunted. "Then I must be the Dragonborn."

That confused Elenwen. She had thought the guard might not let her out knowing her status under the pressure of the Dragonborn or some other enemy of the Dominion, but it was purely strange that the guard refused to believe she was an ambassador.

Strange and insulting.

"This is no joke!" Elenwen was upset by the guard's nonchalant attitude. "I demand to see your commander at once."

"You are not seeing anyone, crazy lady. A Thalmor ambassador would not attack a farmer over a bowl of noodles."

Attacking a farmer? That actually brought up some intangible flashes in her mind, and Elenwen tried again to grasp what had occurred before she had lost conscious. Yet the memories escaped her once more.

Elenwen took a calming breath. First thing first, she needed to make the guard believe her. "You can go ask the Thalmor delegation. They will be able to confirm my identity."

"The Thalmor delegation have left the city last night."

"They left... That does not add up. Why would they leave without..."

"Besides, I've heard that Elenwen was killed. That's why the Thalmor agents left in a hurry."

"Elenwen was killed? What are you talking about?" Elenwen became agitated again. "I am still alive. I am right here!"

"So you must not be Elenwen." The guard replied conclusively.

"You insolence fool! I AM Elenwen!" She was about to erupt in anger. "Why don't you go check on my belongings? There will be something there to prove my identity!"

"Right... You are talking about the Thalmor robe? That proves nothing. You probably just stole it from the dead body of the real Elenwen."

This guard was unbelievable.

"Why are you so convinced I am dead!?"

"You mean _Elenwen_ is dead? Everyone in Whiterun knows the Dragonborn killed her because the Thalmor tried to assassinate him, even though there is no concrete evidence, as the body was never found… Maybe you know where her body is?"

"The body was never found because I am still alive!"

Just how dense was this guard!?

"That's enough! I got no time for lollygagging. I am leaving. A see-off ceremony will be held today for the new High King of Skyrim, and most guards will have to attend, me included."

The guard turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Elenwen yelled, as she thought of something important. "Who is this new High King?"

"Who else could it be?" The guard said without looking back. "The Dragonborn, of course."

Elenwen slumped back in the bed of her cell. This must be the worst day in her life...

* * *

Three days later, near the gate of Solitude, a caravan moved in steady pace towards the city.

The group was not very large, consisting mostly of soldiers from the Imperial Army and Whiterun, yet held high esteem, since they were escorting the new High King to his future residence in the capital of Skyrim.

King was in the center of team, surrounded by people sent by the Whiterun Jarl and Imperial Legion. Delphine and Esbern were at his side as well.

The truth was, King hated crowded place, and would prefer traveling alone if not for the recent assassinations on himself.

That was all Delphine's fault.

After that encounter with a Thalmor assassin in Breezehome, King counted at least five assassinations.

That was five assassinations in three days.

Of course, all of them failed, or else he would not be sitting here on the horse.

So he supposed there were certain advantages journeying in a group, as most of the attacks were fended off by the soldiers around him.

Although Delphine said these killers were all dispatched by the Dominion, King somehow doubted that.

Delphine was seldom right when it came to matters about King.

King just realized that before meeting Delphine, he had hardly been a target of a hit. Perhaps it was because he had usually traveled randomly from place to place and his self-decreed enemy had not be able to track him correctly?

Unbeknownst to King, many of his rivals were simply scared off by him without him even noticing them. Therefore, King made a decision inwardly – if things went haywire again after settling in at Castle Dour of Solitude, he would find a chance to disappear… without Delphine, of course.

Indulging in his thoughts, King paid no mind on the change of scenery and the conversation among his followers, until Delphine's words interrupted his musing.

"We are arriving at Solitude, Dragonborn." Delphine said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Absentmindedly, King registered they were riding into Solitude, a place horses were usually not allowed.

No one stopped them.

King looked up to see the giant gate to the city opened for them.

In particular, for him.

Sunlight seeped through the gap between two leaves of the doorway, blinding the members of the caravan temporarily.

King blinked involuntarily to adjust his eyes.

Then through the now wide opened city gate, he saw a scene he would never forget.

Citizens of Solitude – men and women, elders and children – lined up on the both side of the road, cheering and hailing at the caravan.

At first sight, King knew this welcoming ceremony was much greater in scale than the farewell one in Whiterun.

Getting closer to the crowd, King noticed there were all kinds of people. Farmers, merchants, soldiers, nobles, and even beggars were all there, almost as if the whole city was welcoming their arrival.

Indeed, the whole city was welcoming _his_ arrival.

 _The new High King had come._

 _The Dragonborn had come._

King could barely made out these sentences from the thunderous yelling of the crowd. He could see the excitement through the glittering pairs of eyes, and he could feel exhilaration through the turmoil in the air.

 _All hailed the Dragonborn._

 _All hailed the King._

The commotion in the crowd grew louder as his horse trotted among them, walking on the stone-paved street of Solitude. The smiles on the faces of those people and the hopes shimmering through their gaze uplifted the mood of King, infecting him.

He sat straighter on the horse, slowly raising his hand to greet the crowd, to which the crowd responded with ever more spirited acclamation.

It was at this moment, King truly understood what it meant to be the High King of Skyrim.

It was at this moment, King felt he truly had a chance to lead Skyrim to greatness.

Even if he was not actually Dragonborn and did not actually had immense prowess, King felt those did not matter anymore. As long as people believed in him, there was nothing he could not accomplish.

It was possible for him to become a wise and outstanding High King of Skyrim. Under his rule, Skyrim would become stronger as he reconstructed the remains of the war and regrouped an army of strict discipline. He would be written down in history and praised by the later generations as one of the greatest High King. And…

And suddenly an arrow sailed through the air and hit his horse right in the face…

"Neigh-" The horse cried.

"Assassin!" Delphine shouted.

The crowded immediately flooded towards one direction, the direction where the arrow came from.

The people who were still cheering one moment ago now all drew their weapons – daggers, swords, bows and whatever else they could conjure. Then under a thousand hails of attacks, the assassin screamed and laid dead in less than a few seconds.

It was a _very_ bad idea to commit a crime of assault amid a blaze of publicity…

King watched, speechless.

Nope, definitely not. He was definitely not going to be a good High King.

King just realized even an old lady in Skyrim was more ferocious than he ever was.

He should _really_ find a good excuse to get himself the hell out of the capital and disappear.

Yep, that was it.

That was the best plan he could think of presently.

* * *

In Helgen, Saitama realized how annoying Lokir was.

Lokir, the ex-horse thief, was unhealthy interested in rumors and gossips. Ever since Saitama and Genos came back from Whiterun, the man came to probe for information from them _every single day_.

"C'mon," said Lokir, "You must have heard something about the peace council in Whiterun. Just tell me."

"No! I don't know anything about this council you are talking about!" Saitama was losing his patience. "Now stop bothering me and get out of my house!"

Genos nodded in agreement, silently summoning the incinerate spell in his hand.

"Then how about this Dragonborn everyone is talking about? The strongest man on Nirn?" Lokir was still asking questions when Saitama was pulling him towards the door with brute force. "Have you heard anything interesting about him in Whiterun? Or have you seen him there?"

"No! I know nothing about your questions. Just get out!" Saitama opened his door, shoved the ex-horse thief out, and turned his attention to his disciple. "And Genos, snuff that fire spell. You are not trying to burn the house down, are you?"

"Sorry, sensei." Genos dispelled his magic at that.

Saitama let out a sigh and slumped down back on his bed, where he had been taking a nap before that uninvited visitor came.

Sheesh... Why did the guy think he would know anything about some random rumors?

Peace council? Dragonborn? The strongest man on Nirm?

Saitama got nothing to do with any of those!

Or so he believed.

* * *

The Dominion were fermented by the recent development of the political situation.

The White-Gold Concordat had been broken in Skyrim under the supervision of their first Emissary, with the acquiescence of theirs. This was indeed a deplorable scenario for the Dominion.

The initial Concordat had been brokered after the Battle of the Red Ring almost thirty years ago, in which the Thalmor ended up forfeit but the Empire ended up weak and vulnerable. Even though Emperor Titus Mede II had led the Empire to a temporary victory back then, the man was never a major concern to the Dominion.

Unlike the Dragonborn.

The Dominion had once been certain in their potency against the Empire, and only chose to delay the invasion so they could preserve their strength.

Crushing the Empire with brute force had been possible, yet unbeneficial, and could cause extremely negative consequences to the Dominion. Hence they had chosen to wait.

They had waited for the White-Gold Concordat to tear the Empire apart, slowly but steadily. The civil war in Skyrim was such epitome.

Then that Dragonborn had stepped in, stopped the civil war and become the High King.

High King, a man with great political influence.

Now the enemy of the Dominion was much more menacing than Titus II had ever been. And if a war was waged, the Dominion would not have enough advantages to ensure their triumph – not with the Dragonborn as their adversary. All their assassinations of the Dragonborn had all been proved futile as well, not even shaking the man slightly.

They needed to reconsider their next move carefully.

To war, to peace, or perhaps…

To incite more chaos to Tamriel…

* * *

Emperor Titus Mede II knew the he was not the one who had won Battle of the Red Ring. It was someone else dressing in his armor.

That had been a long time ago.

It hardly mattered at the moment.

The only thing mattered was the Dragonborn – a man whose strength and deed befitted his title.

King.

Allegedly, the man was a lost heir of the Septim dynasty. If that was true, the Dragonborn would have the right to fight for the throne…

Titus II pondered what would happen if the Dragonborn tried to claim the position of Emperor, and his frown deepened.

Time had taken away his youth and strength, but brought him mellowness and wisdom. Titus II was not that callow young man anymore, and he understood the severity of the situation – the Empire could not stand another infighting, especially with the Dragonborn.

Besides, he would have to admit his own bloodline was no match to the Dragonborn's.

Either way, the initiative was held by the Dragonborn.

And Titus II believed the fate of the Empire was in the man's hand as well.

* * *

Completely unrelated to the governmental affairs of Tamriel, Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbinger of the Companions, had the strangest dream in his life that night.

* * *

 **AN: Here I will get to the specifics of the incoming pause of the story. The pause is, of course, somehow related to the other things I have to do in my life. But it has more to do with the story itself, and I will explain.**

 **First, I won't necessarily call it a hiatus, since I don't expect to halt the story for long, at least not as long as most authors' hiatus. In fact, I am drafting the future chapters as we speak.**

 **Second, it is** _ **not**_ **because I am running out of ideas for the fic or because I want to abandon the story; on the contrary, it is because I want to finish the story. However, in order to finish a story without a horrible ending, I need to plan ahead – much ahead. And that means I have to check all the currently uncompleted quests in Skyrim (both already-appeared and unmentioned-yet ones), and decide which will come later and their endings also. Then there is the OPM characters that will show up later, of whom I will not reveal now, since there are still uncertainties at this point. (i.e., I can't say for sure who will show up later, but there will be someone showing up.) Other than those, I have to outline the overall structure of the plot, and the elements that drive the plot.**

 **Third, this does** _ **not**_ **imply the fic will be over soon. I expect there will be totally four parts of the story, which means we are only half way through. So why am I preparing for the ending so early? I've learned a rushed ending is usually a bad one, and a proper ending requires some build-ups. And I want some hints to be dropped in part three, which is the coming part. Remember, the King being King plot was decided in the beginning of the story, so I would never write someone refers Saitama as the Dragonborn in rumors. Similarly, I will confirm the ending lest I should write something contradictory.** **Also, in part three,** **I will start to wrap up some instances of foreshadowing before part two, as they are quite many and will be too much to fit in part four only.**

 **In short, I hate it when a good story does not end or get abandoned. And I suppose there are at least some goods in my story, so I hate it to be unfinished as well. Therefore, I need some time to make sure I won't write myself into a corner.**

 **Finally, ideas and critics are always welcomed. I will try my best to take them into account, but at this stage of the story, I cannot promise much will be changed about my** _ **master plan**_ **. Minor changes are possible, though. And I appreciate those much. Questions are welcomed also, since from them I can learn what I need to elaborate.**

 **Thanks for reading/reviewing/suggesting, my amazing readers.**

 **BTW, the story is often running on multiple lines, so if you notice something inconsistent, please tell me, and I will either make some small modifications, explain to you the plot in question via PM, or explain more in the future chapters.**


	41. §3: A Night Better Not to Remember

**AN: Okay, I decide to start updating again. The thing is there are still some uncertainties with my future plot, so the update rate will probably not be as regular as previous. But I will avoid leaving a major cliffhanger when I need to pause a bit.**

* * *

No powerful monsters. No strong enemies. No insidious evils hiding in the dark corner waiting to be awaken. Not even the dragon attacks were often heard.

The recent days in Helgen were simply too peaceful for Saitama.

Not as if Saitama did not enjoy being lazy at times, but that was only a good option for _entertainment_ for so long. Now, Saitama felt the need to move about.

And they were running out of groceries anyway.

Taking a glimpse towards Genos, who was fully absorbed in writing those senseless journals, Saitama decided not to notify his disciple. After all, there was a tavern right next to the house.

The construction of a brand new tavern was finished lately, as the rebuilding of Helgen was making good progression. Holgar, the towering Nord with bushy hair and beard, had become the owner of the new inn, declaring it had been his dream from the childhood. That was how Helgen came to hold the most intimidating-looking innkeeper.

However, in contrary to his daunting appearance, Holgar was actually a warm and friendly person – almost overtly so.

Instead of welcoming atmosphere, awkwardness was the only thing felt by Saitama as he made his purchase at the inn.

When Saitama finished the shopping, a familiar face showed up. That was the man who had been following him, from inn to inn, ever since the last time Saitama stopped at Riften. Saitama noted the man was almost always drunk, and possibly jobless.

An annoying drunk hobo.

Saitama was about to dismiss the man like what he did in the past, before he realized the tavern was next door to his house. That hobo was going to be the worst _neighbor_ ever. What if the man decided to knock on his door, like that nosy Lokir did to probe for rumors?

That could not be good.

Saitama wondered what his options were in such dilemma.

Move out of the city into another camp? Nah, that was too much trouble, and he was not the one who should be moving out.

Punch the hobo on the face and throw him out of the town? It seemed a bit too extreme since all the man did was being an bothersome buffoon.

Try _again_ to talk the man out of stalking him around? That would require a lot of persuasion technique, which Saitama was not confident he had.

Well… at least it did not hurt to try…

Saitama slumped slightly as he decided to talk to that homeless drunkard. The man was named Sam… Something… as the man had once introduced himself.

Putting the groceries on the counter, Saitama asked Holgar to look after his stuffs for him, in case the drunkard chose to be difficult. Then Saitama strode in front of that irritating bum.

"If you're looking for a challenge, you've come to the right place." The toper raised his cup at Saitama. "A few drinks, a few laugh and a contest. What could be better?"

"Stop asking me that." Saitama stared, impatient. "Drinking contest is definitely not something I would call _fun_."

More likely than not, it would only make Saitama want to take a leak.

"Oh? Have you try it before?" The man asked.

"No."

"Then how do you know it is not fun?"

"I just do." Saitama believed that question made no sense. "I've never watched paint dry, but I know that is boring too."

The sot shook his head, not satisfied with Saitama's reply. "I'll tell you from my personal experience it is very much fun."

"Not interested. Now can you stopping stalking me around?"

"Then how about this? We have some drinks and hang out a little. If you still don't like it, I will never bother you again."

Saitama considered that offer. He did not really have anything to do at this moment, but hanging out with a drunkard could prove to be troublesome.

As if sensing Saitama's indecisiveness, the man added, "To sweeten the pot, I can also offer you a magical staff as payment. Therefore, it is a no-lose situation for you. It will only take some of your time, which you have much, correct?"

Saitama noted that staff deal actually make the whole thing smell more suspicious, but whatever. "Fine. I don't really want your staff. I just want you to stop bothering me. So keep your promise, or else…"

"Yeah, yeah. I will… I will…" The drunkard interrupted.

The interruption was just in time for Saitama, since he had not thought of what he should say after 'or else'.

The man proceeded to pour two full tankards of some sort of liquor, and handed one to Saitama. "This is a special brew, very strong stuff. Let's get started."

Saitama snatched the vessel, downing it in a large gulp.

* * *

That drunkard who Saitama dubbed as an _irritating hobo_ was in fact Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of debauchery, who took the guise of a bar customer named Sam Guevenne. Not that Saitama knew anything about it.

Sanguine had been watching Saitama for a while, although not with as much intentness and curiosity as Hermaeus Mora had. Still, Sanguine did witness some of strange deeds of Saitama, and could see the strength of this indifferent Breton. Sanguine did not care to understand the extent of the bald man's power, unlike some other Daedric Princes, what he truly cared was certain potential of the mortal – the potential to cause interesting events.

Sanguine would love to drag this dull and spiritless bald man into his kind of lifestyle towards the darker nature. While some called it sinful, Sanguine called it fun. Sanguine, as a Prince of revelry, was indeed here for some fun.

The original plan of Sanguine was to fuel the mood with some alcohol. This drink from the Daedric Prince was no ordinary booze, able to drop a regular person with one dose and a strong-will warrior with two. With three tankards of those, even a dragon could get tipsy.

Yet Sanguine's plan was found lacking as the bald man remained sober after a dozen doses. Saitama had showed no hint of getting drunk, only becoming more uninterested.

While being intrigued by the scene, Sanguine supposed this was not good for his scheme.

"How long do we have to do this?" The bald man sighed loudly, showing his impatience.

It was not working at all, Sanguine decided. Perhaps it was time to change the plan a bit.

"I think I hit my limit on those things. You won." Sanguine made up his mind. "I'll admit this little contest is getting boring, but I know this great place that is much more interesting than this."

"I doubt that…" The bald man did not seemed convinced, staring blankly at Sanguine.

Why couldn't this man just accept Sanguine's proposition, like normal adventurers did?

To get this mortal to follow him around, Sanguine needed something more appealing. Something for this specific man…

And there was one good idea.

"There is more to it," said Sanguine. "I bet you will find something that can challenge you in that place."

That sentence perked the interest of the bald man, although somewhat slim.

"Right…Challenges… Like that drinking contest?" The man was still suspicious to the suggestion.

"No, it's much better than that! There are some really exciting challenges for strong people… like you." Sanguine kept pushing. "You don't have urgent matter, right? So why not give it a try? You will enjoy it."

"How do I know you are not talking nonsense because you are drunk?"

"I am not drunk."

"Drunk people never think they are drunk." Saitama commented. "And you said you hit your limit."

"…" Sanguine was not sure whether this man was smart or stupid. "Let's just say I am almost drunk but not yet. Are you coming or not?"

Then there was a long pause, and hesitation was written all over the Breton's face.

Finally, the man relented. "Okay. I'll try it out…"

"We should head there." Sanguine immediately rose from his seat and left the inn, with Saitama followed unenthusiastically, marching towards the wildness of Skyrim.

* * *

Sanguine should have expected thing would not go smoothly.

They made a few stops, in all of which Sanguine would suggest some indulgences or pranks he considered fun to do, only to be brushed aside by Saitama – usually with the sentences such as "Really? That doesn't sound challenging at all.", "Maybe you should do that yourself…", "Can I leave now?" or "I think this is illegal."

 _Just how passive this man was?_

It was quite absurd the Daedric Prince was getting frustrated by a mortal man. The usually jolly Daedric Lord was gradually losing his high spirit.

Happiness was not the only contagious thing, so was boredom.

The worst thing was that Breton was not even slightly impressed. And giving up right now was bad for his reputation as a Daedric Lord.

Approaching the verge of the Province, west of Falkreath, Sanguine eventually resolved to pull something unordinary, as they happened to be at the right place.

It was also in response to the constant "Are we there yet?" from the bald man. The man did nothing to hide his disinterest and intention to walk away on scene…

Sanguine chose to _borrow_ the sanctuary of another Daedric Prince, Nocturnal. By doing that, if thing ended in an unintended way, Sanguine would not be the only Daedric Prince suffered.

Stopping before a Nordic Ruin, Sanguine announced, "Here we are. The Twilight Sepulcher. I've heard this is the place of Nocturnal."

Inside the Twilight Sepulcher was the Pilgrim's Path, a course of trials created for the worshipers of Nocturnal to show their devotion. So conventionally, it should not be visited by random travelers or warriors. In this case, a random Daedric Prince and a random bald man.

Nocturnal and Sanguine were not usually related, since they were neither allies nor adversaries. Sanguine would not step in the territory under normal circumstances and did not care much to know what exactly was in the ruin. As far as he was concerned, the place existed to test the followers of Nocturnal and was bound to have something _challenging_.

Moreover, Sanguine and that mortal were just around the neighborhood of the Sepulcher, and Nocturnal was _not home_ for dozens of years. In fact, Nocturnal had lost her contact with the mortal realm for more than twenty years since her artifact was stolen from the Sepulcher.

This made here the perfect place for the bald mortal to find his challenge.

Nocturnal surely would not mind.

"Is this the last stop?" The bald man seemingly only wanted to get this over with.

"Yes, it is." Sanguine replied.

"And what is _a place of nocturnal_?" The Breton continued asking. "You mean it is dark inside?"

While word nocturnal did mean "of night" as an adjective, here it was referred to the Daedric Prince Nocturnal, the Lord of darkness, luck and, unsurprisingly, the night. Nocturnal was also said to be the patron of the thieves, and was not of the lesser-known entities.

One would assume Saitama should at least had heard of the name of Nocturnal. After all, there were only seventeen Daedric Princes known to mortals – sixteen, if not counting the least-renown one – and Saitama had already met almost half of them in person. It just did not make sense that he had never tried to look them up…

Yet, apparently the man was insulated to 'making sense'.

Hearing the nitwitted questions, Sanguine could not help but felt a tinge of regret of choosing this man to hang out with.

* * *

Saitama felt tons of regret of hanging out with the drunkard.

The guy had not offered anything in resemblance of a challenge as he promised. Moreover, judging from his previous suggestions of _fun_ , the guy was childish and morally irresponsible. Either that, or the drunk people had no idea what they were talking about.

Saitama wondered why in the world he accepted the drunkard's deal in the first place.

Yeah right… He was bored, and wished to get rid of the guy who kept bothering him in different towns.

But Saitama realized those were not reasons good enough for him to embark on this pointless trip… with an annoying drunk.

It just made Saitama want to go home.

If this were not the final stop as that drunkard proclaimed, Saitama would certainly be leaving.

The last stop – this so-called Twilight Sepulcher looked abandoned from the exterior. Crumpled columns scattered alongside the trail, which was cut through by a thin stream. At the end of the path, two brazier somehow still burning despite of the desertion, and a metal door was carved into the crag.

Saitama was quite sure "place of nocturnal" meant it was dim inside. It was a cave of some sort after all.

"No." The drunkard disagreed. "Nocturnal is actually the name of… Never mind. You only need to know inside is the Pilgrim's path. It's a place to test the Pilgrims of Nocturnal and you will find your much longed-for challenge within."

Looking confident as he might, the drunkard's words did not sound reassuring to Saitama. Drunk people were definitely not the reliable kind.

"Pilgrim's Path? But I am not a pilgrim…" Saitama said, not getting the logic of the drunk, if any at all.

"No one says only pilgrims can tread on the Pilgrim's Path." The drunkard explained. "Are you coming or not?"

Saying his last sentence, the man pushed the door open and entered the ruins.

Still, Saitama could not comprehend why pilgrims would have anything to do with the challenges the drunkard had mentioned. He believed pilgrims were more like priests or monks, rather than warriors or fighters. So why would this be the good battle he was looking for?

Saitama stared at the gaping door for a couple of seconds before eventually decided to go with it.

In an abandoned cave like this, what could go wrong?

* * *

 **AN: The next chapter should come up fairly quickly, hopefully, before the next OPM manga update, which is at December 28** **th** **I believe.**

 **Oh, and Merry Christmas!**


	42. §3: Darkness Unreturned

**AN: As promised, I am updating here before December 28th.**

* * *

The Twilight Sepulcher was the resting place of a portal connecting Nocturnal's realm and Mundas. Yet the portal remained closed ever since the stolen of Skeleton Key, an artifact of Nocturnal. Therefore, for more two decades, the only beings present here were the devoted worshippers, some foolish thieves and the ghostly guardians of the Sepulcher.

Nocturnal would not return to this place if the portal was still shut, Sanguine knew that. So the bald man should not cause much trouble, since he had no reason to commit defilement towards Nocturnal. The man did not even know who Nocturnal was.

Those were the reasons that Sanguine did no hesitate to bring the man here. And now it was time for the challenges.

 _"Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark. They wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers._

 _Above all they stand, vigilance everlasting. Beholden to the murk yet contentious of the glow._

 _Offer what She desires most, but reject the material. For her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt or carried._

 _Direct and yet indirect. The path to salvation a route of cunning with fortune betraying the foolish._

 _The journey is complete, the Empress's embrace awaits the fallen. Hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion."_

These sentences described the five tests – five challenges – on the Pilgrim's Path. Sanguine had recited these hints to the bald man, who had only responded with an expression between blank and confusion and a doubtful "okay".

And the bald man strode towards the depth of the cave, muttering, "Whatever it is, let's get this over with."

But the man did not walk the path as the clues suggested.

The first test, where two dark and ghostly specters guarded the path, was passed rather _normally_ , with Saitama dispelling the both opponents using a casual punch. While it was not the conventional stealth Nocturnal's worshippers used, it was, in Sanguine's opinion, an acceptable response from an adventurer.

The second one, however, proved to Sanguine that there was something truly strange about this bald man.

As the clue suggested, the lights in this section of the dungeon should be avoided. That was testified by the bodies lying dead here and there in this large chamber.

Forging with the Daedric Prince Nocturnal's magic, the lights scorched the life force as well as the soul of a mortal who dared to stand before them. When basking in the glow of the blazing fire, the travelers' health would drain at critical speed, until death took hold in mere seconds.

At least, that was what supposed to happen.

In this case, the Breton simply took a straight path towards the exit, ignoring the deadly rays completely – unharmed as well. Along the way, the only sign of _discomfort_ was the man complaining about the light is _really bright_.

Sanguine was not sure how that was possible, yet chose to let it slide. The Prince of Debauchery was not one to obsess over the unknown.

The third test was a puzzle to open the hidden door.

To be honest, Sanguine was quite interested in how the man would deal with it. The puzzle was not hard, but it required some _normal_ thinking, which Sanguine found the bald man lacked.

It was not until the bald man easily found the hidden path and _pushed_ open the _sliding_ stone door that Sanguine realized there was absolutely nothing normal about this man.

With slightly incredulous sentiment, Sanguine watched in silence as the Breton confronted the fourth test. This part of the dungeon was furnished with various traps – dart trap, swinging blades, battering rams and spear traps.

Instead of avoiding the compartments, the bald man _had to_ walk through the corridor with blatant indiscreetness while triggering _every single one_ _of them_.

To this point, Sanguine found that hardly surprising…

Then, as if to surpass Sanguine's expectation, the Breton started to dismantle the traps – all of them. Not just disabling them, the man was tearing the rams and blades off their sockets and pulling the dart projectors and spears out of their resting place.

Sanguine did not quite understand the motive behind this irregular action.

Was this man trying to demolish the sanctuary of Nocturnal?

Was it possible the indifferent man enjoying destroying the properties?

Was this a quirk Sanguine could take advantage of?

The mumbles from the bald man answered the questions.

"Hey. Who put these here?" The Breton was ripping a giant log served as battering ram off its bracket, not sweating a bit. "It's dangerous! What if they hit some priests or pedestrians?"

At that, Sanguine comprehended the rationale of the mortal. The man was trying to ensure the safety of the pilgrims…

Which completely made no sense to Sanguine.

So this bald man was having another one of those hero episodes?

As far as Sanguine concern, being a hero was not a valid hobby. What was truly fun was immersing in revelry and sensual desires, or making jokes on others. Why the man could not understand that?

And at this point, Sanguine briefly considered to stop the man from going further and destroying more mechanisms on the way. But Sanguine quickly discovered most of his power failed to work on the man, such as dragging the man to Sanguine's own realm by force. Sanguine deduced that it was because he did not have his full capacity as a Daedric Prince when treading on Nirn, and they were currently affected by Nocturnal's residual influences in her sanctuary.

That must be it.

At least there were not that many traps, so the property damage should be limited.

Exhaling in discouragement, Sanguine followed the bald man towards the fifth, also the last, test.

Wading through another dim tunnel, the trail ended in a cylinder chamber, where a giant well dug into the ground. Just as the clues said, the only way forward was to drop down the chasm, which seemingly led to nowhere.

While the fall was not high enough to kill, regular travelers would certainly be trapped in the hole, waiting for help or starving to death. The only means out was, as the hint specified, the _Empress's embrace_ , in other words, the acceptance of Nocturnal herself – she would reveal the path only to those whom she deemed worthy.

After leaping down the well, the Breton looked around his surroundings.

"This is a dead end." The bald man exclaimed, addressing at Sanguine, who was standing at the edge of the hole. "And I think someone died here a while ago. There is a skeleton of human."

The bald man was likely not deemed worthy by Nocturnal…

Sanguine considered this was probably a result of the man trashing the mechanisms in the Twilight Sepulcher.

Since Sanguine doubted this well could trap the Breton, he guessed the man would probably dig a hole inside the well in order to move on. It should not be a problem for a man with this much strength, and was a reasonable solution to this trial under current circumstance.

Then the man would finish the tests and would be facing the closed portal of Nocturnal…

It might be a good time for Sanguine to come up with another plan, since the bald man had showed absolutely no interest during this course of trials.

The Daedric Prince of debauchery took a step back from the opening when the bald man came up from the supposedly _unescapable_ sinkhole in one leap.

That jump was not too unexpected to Sanguine, considering all the unusual things the man did previously. And Sanguine believed he had finally gotten used to the man's action.

He was wrong.

The bald man came up with his plan to _tackle_ the test.

"Let's bury the hole." The man said.

Let's... _bury the hole_?

Sanguine's mouth corner twitched.

Bury the _only_ pathway towards Nocturnal's inner sanctum, where her realm and Nirn connected?

Sure... Why not?

Perhaps it was because it would block all Nocturnal's worshippers who actually wanted to take the Pilgrim's Path!?

And there was the stolen artifact, whose disappearance caused the disconnection between the realm of Nocturnal and the Sanctum. Obstructing the path would meant the impediment of the artifact's returning. Which in turn would result in Nocturnal's continual disjunction to her Sepulcher.

Nocturnal was not going to like this.

The bald man was apparently someone who talked the talk and walked the walk. Before Sanguine recovered from his bewildered state, the Breton had already collected a large pile rubbles from the other parts of the Sepulcher and started to throwing them into the well.

Sanguine did not want to know where the man found those rubbles…

Nocturnal was going to be mad at this.

And why on Nirn would the man think burying the hole would help finish the test?

The second time the bald man returned from gathering the _fillers_ , Sanguine intercepted.

"What can you possibly accomplish by doing this!?" The Daedric Prince asked.

"Uh… Prevent more pilgrims from falling to their death?" The bald man answered as a matter of course. "Whoever put this hole here need to more considerate to others' safety."

So this was yet another 'saving the pilgrims' measure!? Were it not the purpose of the Pilgrim's Path to test the pilgrims against danger!?

Too tired to even try explaining to the bald man the many things that were wrong here, Sanguine smacked his own forehead discouragedly.

It only made things worse when the bald man turned to Sanguine with that stupid blank expression.

Then the man said, "Are you going to help or not?"

Not waiting for Sanguine's answer, the man swirled around towards the direction they came, ignoring the Daedric Prince once again.

That man surely had a way of hitting the nerve of a Daedric Prince, in this case, probably two. And there was _absolutely no way_ Sanguine was going to help the bald man _bury the pathway of Nocturnal_.

In fact, Sanguine thought it was best to forget about maintaining his reputation as Prince of debauchery at this point, and leave the man to his own business.

Trying to lure the Breton was simply too much trouble for even a Daedric Lord – so difficult that Sanguine felt defeated.

This was definitely the most frustrating night Sanguine had ever had. Now he just wanted to go back to his own realm and to _never ever_ see this mortal again.

In the end, Sanguine left the Sepulcher when the bald man went gathering more debris from who knew where. At this rate, it would take _hours_ for the man to finish the job.

Sanguine had no intention to stay and watch, since he had already had of annoyance for one day.

He just wished Nocturnal would not find his involvement in this and hold a grudge against him.

* * *

After hours of filling the well with debris, Saitama dusted his hands clean as the hole was no more.

The well was quite large and it was hard for Saitama to tell which parts of the dungeon could be tear down as fillers without collapsing the whole place. He just wished no one would mind about him uprooting several statues for this great cause – the cause of saving priests from accidentally fall to their demise.

Now that the _important_ task was done, Saitama figured it was time to resume the journey to find some challenges, since he had not seen anything resemblance of a challenge up to this moment. There was only a lengthy and broken dungeon with very malice design.

Seriously, whoever designed the structure of this place needed to rethink their job as architects.

Fortunately, Saitama fixed it for them.

Looking around, Saitama searched for the drunkard who led him here in the first place, but without avail.

He _knew_ drunk people could not be trusted.

That Sam… uh… the Drunk? Right, _Sam the Drunk_ had a lot to explain the next time Saitama found him.

Nah... actually... Saitama hoped he would never see the drunk again. All that man did was keeping harassing him and offering dull tasks, like burying an enormous hole.

Once more, Saitama stomped on the filled hole to make sure the debris and rubbles held firmly. Tired of the tedious labor yet satisfied with his handiwork, Saitama departed from the dungeon the way he came.

It was quite late at night, and Saitama decided to stay at the tavern in Falkreath instead of heading back to Helgen immediately. Drifting peacefully into a deep slumber, Saitama left behind all the boring experience of this day.

The next morning, Saitama woke up, feeling fresh after forgetting all about yesterday's unpleasantness.

It did not take long for Saitama to get back to his house in Helgen. The peacefulness and quietness inside the house were much-missed, and for awhile Saitama did not notice Genos was not home.

When Saitama finally realized Genos' absence, he was not quite worried either. The Nord was certainly old enough to take care of himself, and it was not like they were traveling together so Genos would search through whole Tamriel for getting separated.

Genos possibly just went shopping or something...

Shopping...

Ahhh! The groceries he bought yesterday were still left in the tavern next door!

Saitama rushed out of the door as he realized he had forgotten about his groceries once again, hoping that Genos did not waste money on buying more.

Why did he always forget about these _important_ matters?

It was definitely the drunkard's fault.

* * *

 _Among future generations, it was believed that Sanguine and Nocturnal were rivalries._

 _Story said the two had become enemies because a follower of Sanguine had desecrated the Pilgrim's Path of Nocturnal. To be more specific, the man had cut off the way to Nocturnal's shrine, destroyed the structures inside the Sepulcher, and prevented Nocturnal's artifact from returning to its rightful place._

 _The core of tale was not really far from the truth, since the man who had demolished the Twilight Sepulcher was indeed following Sanguine at the time. Nevertheless, the details were never known by public and varied from version to version, filled in by the sheer imagination of the tellers. Some said it was an accident, some said it was another prank of Sanguine..._

Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, whose sphere is the scrying of the tides of Fate and of the past and future, was not sure what to make of this mess called _the future_.

It again proved this bald man was more troubles than Hermaeus Mora had initially expected.

Comparing to this Dragonborn, the First Dragonborn – a man named Miraak, was _much more_ malleable and docile in Mora's point of view. And Mirrak was a power hungry self-centered cult leader who intended to betray Hermaeus Mora.

So that comment from Mora certainly said something about Saitama…

* * *

 **AN: Not sure how long will it takes until I cook up the next chapter, since there are still some details in consideration.** **I guess I'll wish you guys a happy new year here.**

 **So y** **eah… Happy New Year to you all!**


	43. §3: Fight and Flight

**AN: I figure this is a good time to explain more on the setting of Genos in this story. As you know here in TES universe, magic is great deal and dwarven technology is not that common. So I guess it would make sense not to let Genos have as many mechanical parts as in manga, since magic by itself is the way of becoming strong and looking like a complete cyborg might draw too much weird attentions… (Well… actually the people of Skyrim probably won't care that much. I mean they won't relate the player to anything daedric, even if you wear a complete set of daedric armor…)**

 **Still, Genos here is part human and part mechanical, just with somewhat more human part than in manga.**

 **As a side note, the level of power in this fic will be a little different from the OPM manga and Skyrim game mechanics, otherwise I think some settings won't make sense.**

 **OPM part is easily explained, since the two universe simply have different laws of physics and such.**

 **Regarding game mechanics… Seriously, you can watch a gang of civilians murder a big ass dragon with daggers and axes… How does that make any sense?**

The groceries Saitama bought was kept safely by Holgar in the tavern, but Genos was nowhere to be seen.

Saitama guessed Genos did not go out to buy groceries then. So he probably went to buy notebooks or something. It was quite easy to run of notebooks with the way Genos wrote – he basically tried to write about everything and nothing when Saitama was present.

Not really concerned about it, Saitama watched Holgar retrieved his purchase from the cabinet.

"Here they are. Safe and sound. Just the way you left them." Holgar said while handing the bag of groceries to Saitama.

"Thanks." Saitama took the bag into his arm.

"So… has that blond Nord... Genos returned?" Holgar asked as Saitama was turning away.

"Uh… No." Saitama stopped midway. "You are looking for him?"

"No, no… not that."

Saitama stared at the strange behavior of the bulk man, wondering what he was up to with that question.

Holgar hesitated for a few seconds before elaborating. "I am just a bit worried. You see… last night, after you left with the stranger, a traveler came and talked about a dragon lair to the south of Iverstead. Then… when the traveler was warning about the danger of traveling near that area, Genos arrived. I think his initial intention was to buy some food, but got attracted by the story of the traveler. Then Genos started to ask the man about the details of the dragon attacks. They talked for quite a while before Genos decided to leave, saying he was going to take care of the threat…"

"Oh good." Saitama said. "So Genos did not buy more groceries."

"What?" Holgar remained wordless for several seconds before continued. "I mean, shouldn't you be more worried about your disciple? The man has gone to investigate a dragon lair and not returned…"

"Don't worry. He can take care of himself." Saitama said confidently, before realizing that might not be the case with dragons, since he believed Genos had never fought a dragon before. "Uhh… Maybe I should go check on him. Where is the location of the dragon lair?"

 **Not too far from Autumnwatch Tower, the Rift**

Genos was not usually a careful person, but he was currently approaching carefully the pairs of abandoned towers afar, for the traveler's tale told the danger of this dragon. According to the man, this dragon claimed its territory here in this rather undomesticated place, and slaughtered the unsuspected people who come near.

It was best to be on his guard all the time.

And Genos wondered what would be his tactic when the dragon came into sight. Since archery was not his strong suit, and he did not had the ability to jump as high as his teacher did, Genos realized he did not have many options to choose from. He would have to rely on his magic ability. Long-range destruction magic would be his choice of offense, and alteration would be helpful in additional to armor when it came to defense.

Genos picked up his speed.

Still running forward, Genos notices signs of movement in the distance. A goat trotted down a slope to the left, bleating as it appeared from behind a boulder. A few seconds later, a boy emerged from the same direction, chasing after the goat while holding a bow in his hand.

Fearing the dragon would show up, Genos tried to warn the kid to get out of the way.

It was too late.

Beyond the ridge of mountains, a giant dragon rose.

"Watch out!" Genos yelled at the child. "Dragon is coming!"

The boy saw the monstrosity as well, but did not run away as he should. Instead, the child froze in shock, unable to cope with the situation.

At this moment, another man, an elder Nord, turned up not too far behind the child.

"Haming!" The old man yelled as he headed towards the boy. "Run!"

Genos looked at the pair of young and old, and the imposing dragon drawing near. He knew he had to do something lest the two civilians should perished, and he was running out of time.

The malevolence was obvious in the dragon's action, as it took a dive towards the boy. Yet the distance between Genos and the pair was too wide to cover before the dragon reached them.

Genos made an instant decision.

Charging forward without stopping, Genos channeled all the magicka he could muster into a large fireball, and released it.

"Incinerate."

The blazing orb of flame sailed through the air, scorching the atmosphere as it approached the dragon in frightening speed, while Genos silently prayed that it would not missed.

The spell hit the dragon right on its front.

Although the dragon seemed unharmed, it caused a split-second delay in the advance of the dragon.

And in this split second, the old man managed to reach the boy and hauled him out of the course of the beast.

Both the old and young escaped narrowly as the dragon swept past them.

Genos let out a sigh of relief as the two survived almost unscathed.

However, the real battle had just begun.

The dragon, now noticed a new target, ditched the elder and the boy, and flew towards Genos.

And now, Genos could see the dragon more clearly.

While Genos had not taken on a dragon alone before, he did acquire abundant information on them from records in books, words of people and the fights of his teacher… Well, maybe not much from the last one since the encounters between his teacher and a dragon had never resulted in a _fight_ , but a complete annihilation of the monster. So Genos actually did not learned much about dragons from them, except for seeing many kinds of dragons in person.

Either way, Genos could tell this dragon had a distinct looks from the ones he had seen or heard of.

The dragon was actually larger than the ones he had encountered. The scales of the dragon were woven with purple and black, while the wings white and purple. The curved horns upon its head and the long claws at the tip of its wings indicated it was of a breed which Genos did not recognize.

Moreover, judging from the fact that it took Genos' hit without undaunted, the dragon was stronger than Genos had expected.

This was not good.

It was especially bad when the battle was about to take place in this relatively coverless ground, where Genos had to face the dragon head-on.

Yet Genos did not have many choices since the dragon was coming.

This time, it swooped down without dropping much altitude, spitting a stream of fire towards its prey.

Facing the looming wall of flame, Genos quickly dodged to his right and conjured up a magic ward on his left to block the residue of the blast. Even though Genos had avoided the center of the strike, his ward still cracked under the wave of fervent white heat.

This dragon was definitely a powerful foe. He need a better plan, or else he would certainly be worn out before the dragon did.

In the corner of his eyes, Genos saw the old man had dragged the boy with him and ran towards the way they came. At least as long as the dragon was focusing on fighting him, the civilians would be safe.

Then Genos gaze fell upon the Autumnwatch Tower, and decided that fort might currently be his best option. Since the stone could not burn, the structure would provide some advantage for Genos as cover.

After the dragon swept past, Genos immediately got up running, knowing the dragon would swirled back in a moment. At the same time, Genos changed the fire spell he wielded into icy spear – since the dragon was breathing fire, it was possibly resistant to fire but vulnerable to ice.

It did not take long before Genos hear the whoosh in the wind, implying the returning of the dragon.

Spells ready in his hands, Genos turned around to meet the monstrosity. A volley of ice was launched towards it, as Genos jumped out of the line of fire coming from the dragon. Some of the projectiles hit, and the dragon was slightly taken aback. However, Genos did not completely dodge the dragon's flame as well, and he instantly sensed the scorching pain crawling on his non-mechanical part.

Seeing the dragon soared through, Genos took off sprinting once again, applying healing magic to himself as he went.

The towers were near.

Two stone structures built on the slope of mountains, shielded by gigantic boulders. The one on the right was shorter, occupying the lower part of the hill, while the other stood tall and straight, leaning on the rugged cliff. Both of them blended with the terrain, fused with the rocky region of the hill.

Genos followed the only path into the fort, ascending the slope at top speed, and turned right afterwards. Before the dragon took another swoop, Genos arrived behind a series of walls, and evaded the breath of fire completely.

Only a flight of stairs and a short arch were between Genos and the refuge inside the tower.

Yet this time the dragon came back much faster.

When Genos finally reached the tower, the dragon was just after him, hovering in the air.

Then the dragon landed at the small platform outside of the tower, and shouted into its entrance.

" _Gaan… Lah… Haas!"_

The voice of the dragon resounded inside the tower, and hit Genos right on.

It was not the fire breath the dragon had been using.

Immediately, Genos could feel the shout took effect, draining his magicka, strength and life force.

Without hesitation, Genos scrambled up the stairways within the tower. As he climbed, he could hear the dragon drew breath below, preparing for another shout.

Genos knew under current circumstances, he probably would not survived another direct hit.

Fortunately, the staircase was not long, and Genos reached the top just in time, as the dragon released another tide of flame into the building.

A torrent of inferno overflew the interior of the stone structure, and poured out the opening on rooftop, upon which Genos lowered himself to escape the blaze.

Still not recovered from the previous blow, Genos tried shook off the dizziness without avail. Even worse, his magicka was running low – very low.

It was when Genos stumbled near the edge of the tower that he perceived a fleeting chance he could utilize.

The best chance he had at this moment.

Below his feet the giant dragon had just ceased breathing the stream of fire. Before the beast could take off again, Genos leapt at it.

Plunging down, Genos unsheathed his sword, clutched it tightly with both hands, aimed at the spine of the dragon, and thrusted with all his might.

The sword hit true, driven to the hilt inside the dragon's body, but mildly off center due to the dragon's movement.

The dragon howled in pain and promptly lifted off, but Genos tightened his grip on his sword to balance on its back.

With what little magicka he was left with, Genos sent off a barrage of ice spikes towards the head of the dragon.

That was effective.

Maybe a bit too effective.

The dragon tilted and spun in the air, out of control, before slamming hard into the taller tower.

And Genos did not manage to get off in time.

The tower collapsed as the man and the dragon crashed into it, and Genos lost his grip, slung off into the falling rubbles.

Pain was the only thing Genos could feel before the unconsciousness took him.

Saitama stood in front of a pile of rocks and a tower, wondering whether this was where the dragon lair situated.

Bringing up his map, Saitama checked his position and concluded he stood where Holgar marked for him.

But according to the innkeeper, there should be _two_ towers here, not one…

Moreover, neither Genos nor the dragon was anywhere to be seen.

Perhaps Holgar noted the wrong place.

Or perhaps Saitama was late again.

Now thought of it, he probably should have left Helgen immediately, instead of bringing the groceries back to his house first…

Nah… It should not make that much of a difference, and his groceries were quite important.

So it was more likely that Holgar made a mistake.

Anyway, now the top priority should be finding Genos and the dragon.

Saitama supposed he should look around the place and ask the passerby whether they had seen a blond Nord in Dwarven-like armor or a dragon… oh, or a fort consisted of two towers and not one.

Calling aloud could work too.

"GENOS!" Saitama started his search. "DRAGON! Answer if you hear me!"

The only response he received was the whistling of the wind.

This might take a while…

 **AN: It take longer than I expected to finish this chapter, mainly due to that some scenes did not come out right and I have to rewrite a couple of times. Anyways, this is like the first longer fighting scene I wrote? So tell me if it came out alright.**


	44. §3: Chasing Shadows

**AN: This chapter is closely related to the next one or two, which are not finished yet. Not sure if I should delay posting it, in case that I need to change something here when I am writing the later chapters. But whatever…**

 **Hopefully, I did not make any mistake here that will cause consistency issue in future updates.**

* * *

In his restless dream, Genos thought he heard the voice of his teacher.

" _Excuse me, old man. Did you see a dragon or a man in Dwarve… Ah, I see Genos is in your house."_

Thereupon, a hoary voice Genos did not recognized resonated.

" _Genos? Oh, the lad's name is Genos… Is he a friend of yours?"_

" _Nope."_

"… _Um… But you are looking for him."_

" _Right, and a dragon."_

" _I see… Wait, why are you looking for a dragon?"_

What they said next was lost to Genos as he drifted into deep slumber, only to start _dreaming_ again before long.

This time, the voice of the elder came first.

"… _it is I who should be thankful. The lad saved me and my grandson."_

" _So Genos will be fine here. Then I should get on with the dragon… You are sure you gave me the correct direction, right?"_

" _I am certain it went that way. Although the dragon was hurt quite badly, you still shouldn't go after it alone. You are going to get yourself killed."_

They conversed some more, but Genos failed to register the content in his groggy state.

Before he fell into dreamless sleep, the last sentence Genos heard was from his teacher.

"… _I should go get that dragon…"_

Then Genos' _dream_ ended, while darkness and silence overtook once more.

After an unknown length of time, Genos jerked awake from his coma. Immediately, he tried to sit up but failed as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him unguarded, forcing him to lie down again.

"Take it easy. You've been hurt quite badly from that battle."

An elder's voice came to Genos' ears, and he recognized it was the same one talking with his teacher in his dream.

Not attempting to get up anymore, Genos simply turned his head around to observe his surroundings.

He was inside of a wooden shack, lying upon the only bed.

Not too far from the bed, a table was placed against the wall, and two persons sat on both side of it – one was an old man and the other was a young boy. Genos instantly recognized them as the civilians involved in the previous dragon attack. They must have dragged Genos to their home while he was unconscious.

The old man who had been speaking earlier let out a smile.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Froki Whetted-Blade, an old hunter living with old Nord Tradition." The elder said, and then gestured towards the boy. "And this is Haming, my grandson."

Genos did not reply. Instead, he started to check his own health condition.

Just like the old Nord stated, the injury did not look too good – cuts, bruises and fatigue made his every movement hurt.

Fortunately, as far as Genos could tell, nothing was broken. Moreover, his magicka reservoir was recovering rather well.

With a flick of his wrist, Genos conjured up the healing spell and applied it onto himself until all his magicka spent.

The result was instant and effective. Genos felt a warm flow surging through his body, his strength returned, and his mind refreshed.

There were still some minor flesh wounds left unhealed, but nothing serious, and Genos decided he would get to those later.

The more problematic fact was that some of his mechanical modifications were damaged quite severely in that crash, and he would have to go to Kuseno to fix those.

There was nothing Genos could do about it right now.

So he turned his attention to the other two people in the house.

The old man was not discouraged by Genos' lack of response, and continued to speak.

"Thank you for your help back there with the dragon. Haming and I both owe you our lives. I am truly grateful about it." The man said. "And that was quite a battle too. I can see you are indeed a great warrior… I heard your name is Genos, correct?"

Genos sat up straightly at the edge of the bed, turning his head towards the old man. "How do you know my name?"

The boy cut in before the old man could answer. "A bald man in strange yellow suit said it."

So it was not a dream, his teacher did come.

The old Nord hushed the boy. "Haming, go play outside. We are discussing important business here."

"Aw…" The boy reluctantly left the table, heading out. "Alright."

Turning towards the leaving boy, the old man added, "Be careful not to run too far this time! It's dangerous in the wilderness."

"I know, Froki." The boy exited through the door.

Shaking his head slightly, the old man turned his attention back to Genos. "Where are we now?"

Genos narrowed his eyes. "You have seen Saitama sensei."

"Saita… Oh, the bald young man! Um… He never introduce his name." The old man commented. As if trying to make up his mind, the old Nord paused for a moment before continuing. "Listen, lad. Although you healed yourself with that magic of yours, you are still in no condition to fight. So don't get too anxious about what I am about to tell you."

"Is there something wrong?" Genos asked, wondering what that could be. Then something horrible came to Genos' mind. "NO! Sensei did not just…"

"Yes, he did." The old man sighed, empathy written on his face.

Genos jumped to his feet, ignoring the discomfort on his unhealed wounds, and rushed towards the door. "I must go find sensei and ask him to take me back as a student!"

"Wait! You need time to recover from… What?" The old man was startled by Genos' sudden outburst. "What student? He didn't say anything about student. What I was trying to say is he went after the dragon and has not come back."

Genos stopped at the door, hand still resting on the knob. "You are saying that sensei did not reject me as his student?"

"Uh… No, I don't recall he said anything regarding that…" The old man now looked confused.

At that, Genos turned away from the exit and settled back on the side of the bed. Darn that old man, making him worried so much.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Genos deadpanned. "Now, what were you going to tell me about sensei?"

"Um… I've just told you." The old Nord stared at Genos with puzzled expression. "He went to find the dragon all by himself. I've informed him the danger of that creature. But he was too stubborn, refusing to heed my warning…"

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it…" The old man said. "I know the dragon was also wounded quite seriously in that battle, but it is still a damn DRAGON. Aren't you at least a little concerned about your… What is the young man to you again? He said he is not your friend. You are in the same guild or something?"

"He is my teacher." Genos replied. "'Sensei' means 'teacher'."

"Teacher? What can he possibly teach you…" The old man halted on that subject as he noticed the gloomy looks on Genos' face. "Don't mind that. What I meant to ask is… What are you going to do about your… uh… teacher going alone against the dragon?"

"Does sensei know where the dragon went?"

"I told him where it went before I found out his intention of going after it."

"Good."

"What is good about that?" The old man croaked an eyebrow, incredulous. "The man does not have any weapon or armor on him. What is he going to do when he find the dragon?"

"He will punch it to Oblivion, of course." Genos answered in a de-facto tone. "Do you have anything to eat? Or is there a tavern around? I am a bit hungry now."

In the next half an hour, Genos took his time eating his meal, while the old Nord tried to feel out whether Genos had hit his head too hard during the crash.

* * *

 **Somewhere southeast to Ivarstead, near the southern border of Skyrim**

King was searching for a way out of Skyrim without being noticed by the authority.

Ever since Delphine had found him, King's intent of leaving Skyrim had begun brewing. But King's resolve was only solidified after that speech from Esbern in Solitude.

Not long after King's dramatic arrival at Solitude as the High King of Skyrim, Esbern, the old man who was also a member of Blades like Delphine, spoke of his extensive research on dragons, and came to a conclusion that the decreasing of the monstrosities might just a feint – a trick played on the mortals. The old scholar believed the danger was still out there and they could not rest until Alduin, the World Eater, was defeated – a feat must be done by the Dragonborn.

Not that Esbern, King or most of the Tamriel knew that Alduin had already been vanquished by a certain bald man months ago.

King, however, did know one thing – he was no Dragonborn.

And he had no intention of fighting a dragon, let alone a dragon dubbed as "the World Eater". With no fighting skill whatsoever, King seriously doubted he could scared off a dragon as he sometimes did to regular offenders.

If he were to fight Alduin, he would doubtlessly end up dead in seconds.

Other than that, there was another minor annoyance as well – Esbern had been persistent on asking questions about this so-called "King Engine".

Talking about this "King Engine", the whole thing was ridiculous from the start.

Being ten times more cowardly than a normal person, King's heart pounded so fast and loud that people around him could easily perceive.

Unfortunately, the folks erroneously concluded the sound was from a secret destructive force functioning in King's chest and they gave it a name.

At first, it was called Ingenium, meaning a natural talent. Then someone realized the word ingenium had once been used to name another device, and it was not proper to reuse an old word to describe the weapon of the legendary Dragonborn.

They instead titled the thumping in King's chest as "King Engine".

So how in Oblivion was King going to explain "King Engine" to that curious old man?

One more reason to leave Skyrim and these odd people as far as possible.

Hence, that was what King set out to do.

Getting out of Solitude was easier than he had expected, and King had succeeded in doing so by making up a random excuse about "training privately", which Delphine had accepted without any objection.

Nevertheless, finding a way to cross the border was much harder.

King had traveled near the southern border from west to east, attempting to find a path someone like him could take, in other words, a path that was not too rugged and was not guarded by soldiers.

Yet no luck so far.

Having been walking for hours in this mountainous area, King felt his legs were about to give way, and decided to rest for a while.

King looked around, searching for a good place, where the ground comparatively flat and shielded from the chill wind by cliff or boulders.

What King found was better – there was circular mound-shape stone structure half covered by snow. While there were some holes on the roof and the interior was a little cramp, King found it a great temporary resting place.

Sitting down upon an abandoned served as a makeshift stool, King dropped off his backpack, which was laden with the items he cared enough to carry with him such as the comics he drew or bought, and stretched out his stiff legs.

Not long after King had settled down, two robes cladded figure appeared outside the opening of the mound, and entered.

The two strangers dressed exactly the same, wearing red-brown robes and masks. The masks were seemingly made of bones, with branches on all side resembling tentacles, and their front were lack of facial feature.

Those masks gave King the creeps.

The wearers of the masks did not look friendly either.

What was worse, the two eerie strangers had noticed King, and were ostensibly heading towards him, after exchanging a few words with each other.

King blanched a little, uncertain of what to do.

Who were those people anyway?

* * *

Miraak, the First Dragonborn, had learned about the defeat of Alduin and the existence of another Dragonborn, the Last Dragonborn, in Skyrim.

So the First had sent his cultists to kill the Last, yet causing death was not truly the goal. No, it was to draw the man to Miraak's territory, and to prove there was only one worthy Dragonborn.

Even though Miraak knew the man was a real Dragonborn just like himself, he told the cultists the man was a fake, so the faith of his cultists would not be shaken.

Ironically, one of the groups of cultists just found an authentic false Dragonborn.

They were two cultists cladded in red-brown robes and masks.


	45. §3: The Uncanny Encounters

**AN: Sorry for the late update. These two chapters just refused to come out correctly.**

 **Yes, two. As there is another update after this one immediately.**

 **Also, I kinda hit a block here on certain story development. There are some consistency issues on the later plots that I am working on, so I have to move the order of story in my mind a bit.**

 **Regarding the other OPM characters, I still cannot say for sure who will appear later, since I don't want to write a character only for the sake of writing him/her. It means he/she will have to fit into the plotline. Therefore, one of them may or may not appear in the near future… I haven't made up my mind. Decision… decision…**

* * *

Two of Miraak's cultists were wandering in the Jerall Mountains when encountering someone whose appearance matched perfectly with the depiction of the _False Dragonborn_ , as their Lord Miraak designated.

Nevertheless, ever since the two had arrived at Skyrim from the Solstheim island, the stories told by people of Skyrim started to corroded their faith slowly. The deeds of this False Dragonborn were nothing less than astonishing, and the idea of this man could be a legitimate Dragonborn like their Lord had inevitably sprouted in their minds.

Pulverizing a Dragon into thousands of pieces with a single Shout, such an unbelievable feat was unheard of even by the cultists of the First Dragonborn.

And there was this so-called King Engine.

It was something Miraak did not possess, unique in its own existence. Perhaps it was a talent without equal, or perhaps it was a skill uninvent in past. The only thing the cultists knew was it was somehow related to the Shout, possibly strengthening its magnitude. Such device was simply beyond imagination, and almost myth like – a device to enhance the already extremely powerful Thu'um.

While some of the cult members took these rumors as nonsensical lies, others were willing to take the possibility into consideration – the possibility of the False Dragonborn was not false and the King Engine truly existed.

These two cultists, in particular, had visited one of the site where a Dragon was said to be slain by the Dragonborn, and had witness the fragmentary shards of bones that might once had been a part of a Dragon and the new ravine which purportedly had been carved by the Shout.

Although they still had their doubts on the authenticity of this Dragonborn, they were feeling open-minded enough to accept the man's identity if he proved to wield the prowess of a Dragonborn.

Now was the time to confirm it.

* * *

King suppressed a shudder as two strange looking men with masks halted their steps before him.

"You there! You're the one they call Dragonborn?" One of the strangers called out.

King was tempted to tell them they got the wrong person, before acknowledging that sentence was more of a statement than a question.

Crap, since they were inquiring in such a way, they had already identified him, had they not…

Then King realized he had forgotten to pull his hood on. No wonder those men recognized him.

So there was probably no point denying it.

"Who is asking?" King did not respond directly, but chose to answer with a question of his own, frowning.

Facing the two imposing men, King felt his heart rate rising.

"It's… King Engine… So the rumors are true…" The second man muttered, his voice barely louder than a gasp, before bowed slightly. "King, I apologize for my companion's rudeness. We are not here for a fight. We are just humble travelers who wish to get a glimpse of the prowess of a Dragonborn."

"Yes, sorry for my previous outburst." The first speaker said. "If possible, we would like to see a demonstration of your Voice."

"You want to hear me shout?" King asked, and the two strange men responded with earnest nodding.

It took all King's will to quench his urge to flight from this difficult scene.

How in the world was he going to use a Dragon Shout? He had absolutely no training in Shouting and was not at all a Dragonborn!

Why did he always encounter these horrifying weird situations?

Crap… He had to cook up some excuses… fast.

"I would love to satisfy your curiosity." King spoke slowly, thinking hard. "However, it's impossible now. Shouting here... The consequence will certainly be dire... No, it's unforgivable under any circumstance. Do you see where we are standing?"

"Where?" The first man looked around, cautiousness in his stance. "What do you mean?"

"We are in the Jerall Mountains. It's between two provinces Cyrodiil and Skyrim. While landscape plays an important role when establishing borders, here the problem is more complicated. I believe you can more or less sense there is something unnatural on your way here." King made things up as he went. "Time is crucial as well. Today is Middas. So we are in the middle of the week. Yesterday is Tirdas, and tomorrow is Turdas. Both Tirdas and Turdas start with the letter T. And Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, has T in the middle of his name. You still can't see the pattern?"

The two strangers both remained speechless, seemingly confused by King's speech.

King's heart was still pumping at full speed, but at least he believed his prattling was working.

It took almost a full minute for one of the masked men to come up with a reply. "It's something about time?"

"Yes and no." King said. "Time is only a part of the equation. There used to be eight divines. But counting Talos, there is nine. Talos also has initial T. And there is the Tower. Have you heard of Adamantine Tower?"

"Adamantine Tower?" The second man mused. "I think I have read it somewhere… It's built in the Dawn Era by…"

King interrupted the man and continued. "That's the Tower. Now consider carefully about the time, the place and the people present here. You should see the core of the problem."

The two strangers were visibly uncomfortable, and there was silence again, which King broke not long after.

"If you still cannot understand what I am saying," King said, "you are not ready and need to leave immediately. It's running out of time. I can't afford to be distracted when the phenomenon start, and will not be able to protect you. So it's best that you both leave the scene. If you treasure your lives, leave. Hurry! Before it's too late."

"We will. We will!" The two were apparently startled by King's sentences, and scurried away as fast as they could.

After the two strangers eventually disappeared from his line of sight, King let out a breath he did not know he was holding. For a moment back there, King had thought the two weird men were going to attack him for no reason.

He was glad that did not happen. Now that the creepy strangers were gone, King figured he should relocate himself in case the two weird men turned back.

Pulling his hood over his head, King got up and headed deeper into the mountains.

A short walk took King in front of another stone structure. Unlike the previous mound, this structure had no wall or roof that could shield its interior; instead, it simply consisted of one raised octagon platform and four thick columns at four corners converging into intercrossed arches high above. In the middle of the platform, an ancient Nord sarcophagus lied, ominous in its appearance.

King stopped dead on his path, unwilling to approach the architecture any further.

In the wilderness of Skyrim, many potential threats lurked, awaiting unsuspected passerby to stumble upon them. Undead was one of such.

It was more than likely that a draugr was currently resting inside that coffin, and would rise from its dormant state once someone approached.

Luckily, King had not gone near enough to awaken it. Maybe he should turn back to the last intersection and choose another direction.

Spinning around, King was about to retrace his previous steps when another man showed up.

King had thought this was a secluded place, covered with rough terrain, but somehow it was not lack of random travelers.

Emphasis on _random_.

This traveler was far less intimidating than the last two. In fact, the man was not frightening in the slightest. With that shiny baldhead, bland face, regular height and stupid costume, the man probably could not even scare a three-year-old if he tried.

What was an ordinary civilian doing in a place like this?

"Hey." The bald man spoke. "You are the Dragonborn, right? Some kind of dragon slayer guy?"

"You recognize me?" said King. He had really become this famous these days? Even with his hood on, an arbitrary man could identify him without difficulty?

"No. I just overheard your conversation with the other two guys back there." The man in yellow replied, nonchalant. "By the way, I am curious. What is this thing you said going to happen?"

King knitted his brows. Wait, did the man say he had _overheard_ the conversation? King did not recall seeing this man around when talking to the two strange men and their voices had not been that loud. So either this man was hiding himself pretty well or he had some very _very_ good hearing…

Never mind. The more important issue was how to explain about the load of nonsense he had made up to drive away the two masked men. King realized he now could not remember most of it.

Well, it's gibberish anyway. King supposed any elaboration would do as long as it could convince the man to go away. At least bluffing this regular man off should be easier than the two creepy strangers, or so King believed.

"I can't offer any more explanation now." King said. "There is no time. The danger is imminent. Didn't you hear what I said earlier?"

"Heroes don't run away from danger." The man said, showing some expression for the first time in this discourse.

It was outright confidence.

King did not know where this man's confidence came from. The man was showing no sign of departing, so it seemed he was not easily frightened… In this case, another excuse was required.

"Even if you are not afraid of what's coming, you still need to leave." King spoke deliberately. "You being here will interfere with my plan. There will be disastrous result if things go wrong."

"You still haven't answer my question…" The bald man's face returned blank again.

Why was this man so insistent on staying? King was wondering as the bald man continued.

The man said, "Does this plan of yours have something to do with that big crippled dragon behind you? I mean… Is it okay if I kill it? That dragon attacked an old man and a boy a while ago and almost wasted Genos."

A big crippled DRAGON? King froze, failed to register the later part of the man's words. All King could think of at this point was...

There was a dragon behind him!?

Slowly as ever, King rotated himself around to check his rear.

Nope, nothing. The only thing worthy of note was the stone coffin lied lifelessly on the platform.

Then, just as King was about to concluded what the man said was of some sort of ruse, he caught a glimpse of something above. Shifting his gaze up, King finally saw it.

A giant figure resting on the tall stone arches.

It was without a doubt a dragon.

Crap. Why hadn't he noticed it earlier?

The only consolation was the dragon seemed to be napping, likely recovering from the nasty wounds on its head.

One thing was certain – there was no chance King could bluster his way out of the wrath of a dragon, for dragons were proud strong-minded beings with the will of domination in their nature. Moreover, dragons possibly had the ability to sense that King was no Dragonborn...

He must get out of here before the dragon noticed his presence!

As quietly as he could, King tiptoed backward and turned around, only to be startled acutely by the bald man, who had moved besides King without any warning.

King jumped, stumbling back a few steps before regaining his balance.

"What are you doing?" The man asked blatantly, lifting an eyebrow. "Are you going to do something about that dragon? You _are_ a dragon slayer, right?"

"Shhh…" King all but whispered, raising an index finger to his lips. "You are going to wake up the dragon!"

Just as the words left King's mouth, a spine-chilling howl resounded behind him. King could not resist the urge to turn his head, and did so in time to stare straight into the eerie compound eyes of the giant dragon.

His leg immediately felt like jelly.

"RUN!" It was the only thought in King's mind.

And so he ran… _like mad_.

Pushing over the bald man who did not seem to budge, King scrambled forward in haste, dropping his bag along with his pretense in the process.

"Why are you running?"

King heard the other man questioned, yet did not dare to look back. Still, King felt guilty if the man remained unmoving and got killed because he believed King could save him.

"I am NOT the Dragonborn!" King blurted out, unable to stay coherent as he scurried ahead. "It's someone else! I just took the credit! We have to… Ahh!"

King's sentence was cut short as he tripped over a cobblestone.

Behind him, King could hear the whirr of dragon wings, and the voice of the dragon resonated.

"Meyye! You dare to disturb my rest. _Gaan… Lah… Haas!_ "

It was a Dragon Shout, but King did not feel it hit him, so it must be aimed at the other man…

At this moment, all King could feel was sorry for the man and fear for his own life.

King closed his eyes tight, bracing himself for the final blow and death itself, as the dragon called again.

"You! Dovaki…"

 _THUMP-_

…

Was it over? Was he dead?

King slowly opened his eyes, only to see the same rubbles, upon which he fell, before his eyes.

Was he not dead? _Why_ was he not dead?

Rolling over onto his back, King took in a scene he would never forget in his life.

The dragon was gone, shattered into countless pieces which scattered over the mountain ground. Above, the stone arches were destroyed into nothingness, and the cloud in the air dissipated into clear sky.

It was him... It was him all along...

The True Dragonborn.

The bald man stood straight and strong, gazing into the heaven. The setting sun shed its light on the man, embellishing the sight and dramatizing the atmosphere.

Then the man turned around. For a moment, he looked almost god-sent.

And the inevitable question came.

"Is it true that," the man said, "You drew this? _Doki Doki Sisters_?"

* * *

 **AN: Some notes on the dragon's quote.**

" **Meyye" means "Fools".**

" **Gaan… Lah… Haas" means "Stamina… Magicka… Health…". These are the words for drain vitality shout – which drain your character's three attributes as the name specified.**

 **The dragon's last word was not finished. It was trying to say "Dovahkiin", which is the word in dragon language for "Dragonborn".**


	46. §3: A Hopeless Case

**AN: Double update today. So if you accidentally skip the last chapter, go read it first.**

* * *

The two cultists of Miraak heard a dragon roared in the distance, and immediately recognized it was near the place they had met the _not false_ Dragonborn.

It was quite far away, and their line of sight was obstructed by the mountain peaks.

The cultists exchanged a glance with each other, hesitated about whether they should go and check it out.

Was this the phenomenon that Dragonborn had spoken of?

Then they witnessed fragments of bones and flesh blown up into sky, where clouds parted and gave way.

This must be the Dragonborn's doing, and with the destruction of this scale, the cultists realized it was best not to approach the site. Who knew what else was there and what would come next?

From the abstruse statement given by the Dragonborn, all they could fathom was something big was about to occur. Therefore, this was likely just the beginning.

They should really get away from there fast.

The two cultists picked up their speed.

At the same time, their respect towards this Dragonborn grew, especially when they compared the man with their Lord Miraak. This Dragonborn was apparently as powerful, if not more. Other than that, the man was unlike their cruel master, but with a heart of kindness and sympathy. This Dragonborn was generous enough to take his time to warn the two, who has absolutely no relation and held no value to him, out of the imminent danger.

Such a noble gesture. Such a noble man.

And the comprehension dawned on the two cultists.

If one were to serve a Dragonborn, why choose Miraak over King?

* * *

King had never thought the day he met the one who had saved him several times would end like this. Yet, here he was, sitting near the campfire and eating roasted meat, while his _savior_ devoted all attention to the comic books from King's bag.

Just an hour ago, towards this man who was seemingly regular yet was anything but, King had spilled everything – the truth about his not-quite-intentional deception, and the fact that he had took the fame and glory rightfully belonging to this man who had saved him… for far more than once.

King had thought by admitting his dishonesty, he would brought down the rage from the man. After all, King did steal almost everything the man deserved. Indeed, the man had worked so hard to be a hero.

Nevertheless, the downpour of wrath had never come.

During the confession, King was reduced to an emotional wreck with unbearable guilt, apologizing repeatedly to this man who he was obliged to and had exploited. The man with cape, on the other hand, did not rage over the matter, and his stature remained calm as breeze of spring.

The man did not blame King.

King could not understand…

Then he realized this man, Saitama, was the true worthy hero that King was undeserved.

What Saitama told him was simple but somehow touched something in King's heart.

There was no fancy feign or stern scold in the man's words. It was just plain honesty.

He said King was the hero in people's heart – the High King of Skyrim, and King therefore had to make his decision – to continue living in lies or to tell the truth to the world.

Running away was never an option, now King understood, for helpless as he was, the past would eventually catch up on him after snowballing into an unresolvable disaster. Furthermore, he knew he had no right to run away from this chaos caused by him, leaving the rest of Skyrim to accept the result, and he had nowhere to run if Alduin were to end the world.

Nevertheless, King did not had the courage to decide what to do either.

Then one more alternative was given by Saitama – an alternative which no one else had warrant to give.

"In that case," The man said, "Why don't you get strong?"

To get strong, to match the hope of people.

It had not seem to be possible for King before. Yet at this moment, in front of this man who worked his way to arise as a hero, King saw nothing but aspiration.

The statement also suggested the man did not intend to reclaim his well-earned recognition, which was now attributed to King.

For a long while, King remained silent, lost in thought, trying to grasp something – some meaning – that felt so close and so far away at the same time.

Now here King was, resting aside the dancing bonfire Saitama had made, while Saitama read intently a comic focused on action rather than romance, which was the theme of that _Doki Doki Sisters_.

The sizzling of the flame and the occasional sound of page turning.

For King, there were still many unanswered questions about Saitama.

Clearing his throat, King pondered for a moment how he should address the other man, and without putting much thought into it, he spoke out.

"Hmm… Dragonborn?"

It was not until King said the word aloud did he realize it felt strange to call someone else this title after being greeted with that name for so long. But King believed this title belonged to the man, so it was not _that_ strange, right?

Saitama looked around, and asked. "Where?"

King was a little confused. "You… you are the Dragonborn, aren't you?"

"Nah, I am not Dragonborn." Saitama said, lowering his book slightly. "Where do you get that weird idea?"

"But..." King stuttered. "But you killed that dragon in a blink with a... Oh... with a punch… You cannot use dragon shouts?"

"Nope."

King hesitated, wondering the implication of the statement, and was seized by panic as he thought of Alduin, the World Eater, whom was said to be the destroyer of the world. If King remembered it correctly, _only_ a Dragonborn could vanquish the World Eater and save the world. At least that was what Esbern, their _dragon expert_ , believed.

So… if Saitama was not the Dragonborn, who was going to defeat Alduin? King's eyes widened at the thought.

They were all about to be doomed.

King got butterflies in his stomach once more, while Saitama did not seem to notice anything wrong.

Indeed, King could see Saitama slumped lazily against a large boulder and continued to read the comic book, ignoring their previous short exchange of words and the meaning behind it.

What to do now? King realized he had absolutely no clue, as he suddenly spotted a book in the stack on the ground, where his other belongings lied.

Judging from its cover, King recognized the tome as _the Book of the Dragonborn_ , given by Delphine when they first met. Though King did not remember carrying it with him, he apparently did, probably by accident in the hectic of his departing.

The truth was, King did not know much about the context of the book, since he had never read it before, not being a Dragonborn and such. Even though King was not sure whether gaining more knowledge on the topic of Dragonborn or Alduins would help this dire situation, especially for someone like him, King supposed it would not hurt. He did not intend to set out for any journey at this hour of evening against the gales of cold wind anyway.

Absentmindedly, King stood up, walked to the pile, picked up the book, and started to skim it through.

Just as the title suggested, the book was mostly about the history of the Dragonborn throughout the ages. It recounted the legacy of Dragonborn Emperors and the tradition of the Blades. While the narration was interesting enough, much of it was not quite helpful presently.

Nevertheless, from its explanation of the nature of Dragonborn, King felt he understand something. In the case of the first recorded Dragonborn, Alessia, it was obvious that being a Dragonborn was a bless from Akatosh. Namely, it was a bestowment of dragon blood for the dragon god saw it fit. Combining with the "getting strong" advice from Saitama, King contemplated the possibility to earn the blessing by growing strong and becoming worthy to Akatosh. He shelved that thought for later consideration, and continued on reading.

Eventually, at the end of the book, King found something related to Alduin.

It was a prophecy – "The Prophecy of the Dragonborn". Similar to others of its kind, the foretelling was vague, consisting of poetic metaphors and ambiguous analogies. Although some of it could be easily deciphered, such as the sentence about the Great War, much of it was hard to explain for King.

In particular, King saw the last part as enigmatic but noteworthy, since it mentioned the World Eater.

The last sentence of the prophecy said,

" _When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding_

 _The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."_

In reality and unbeknownst to King, the prophecy had already been fulfilled. The first segment of the verse was referring to the civil war of Skyrim, which had started with the last High King, Torygg, being killed and had ended with well… King becoming King, whereas the latter was about Alduin and the rising of the Last Dragonborn to defeat it – both were concluded months ago when Saitama demolished Alduin by punching it. Therefore, there was no significance left of this prophecy.

However, because of the willful vagueness of the verses and the unintended anonymity of Saitama's deed, the attainment of the prophecy remained obscure to most, King included.

As a result, King felt uneasy about the prophecy – especially about the _kingless_ part.

It was not talking about him, was it?

Now King started to regret reading this book, as it brought him nothing than anxiety…

No, not just anxiety. The prophecy was horrifying to King – first "kingless", then "World-Eater wakes" – did it mean King would have his life threatened _twice_ in the same verse of one prophecy?

And where in oblivion was the Last Dragonborn?

"What are you reading?"

King almost jumped as a voice rose abruptly behind him, only to recognize it was the voice of Saitama immediately. When did the man get behind him? More importantly, _why_ did the man get behind him?

As if answering King's unasked question, Saitama plopped down beside him, peeking over the book King was holding. "Is this book you are reading interesting? I've finished your other comics."

So Saitama was looking for more comic book to read, King grew puzzled shortly before grasping that, unable to get his head on such mundane matter from the thoughts about the end of the world and other serious affairs.

Saitama was still staring at King expectantly.

"No, this is not a comic book." King finally came to his senses. "It's about Dragonborn."

"What's with this Dragonborn thing anyway?" Saitama seemed disappointed knowing the book's subject. "Is that guy important in any way?"

"Yes. They say it requires a Dragonborn to defeat Alduin." King replied, earnest.

"Alduin…" Saitama rubbed his chin, contemplating. "The name does sound familiar… Who is it?"

If King knew that Saitama asked that question while having slain Alduin, King would definitely busted with incredulity on the fact that Saitama forgot about his _victim's_ name. But King did not.

Hence, King answered seriously with his limited knowledge instead. "Alduin, the World Eater. It will destroy the world unless the Dragonborn stop it… Or something like that."

Saitama paused, thinking hard for a moment before continuing. "Nope, I still can't recall who that is. But… Why destroy the world… Why would someone want to do that? What's the point? Is the guy stupid?"

"It's not a guy. It's a dragon." King was not sure what else to say, believing the dragon to be a major threat and wary of the careless attitude of Saitama.

"Right… Well, I guess that make sense. I never understand what those flying lizards think." Saitama was content with his conclusion.

King, however, was not. "But the reason for Alduin's action is not the point. The point is the world is about to be destroyed by Alduin!"

Saitama only blinked at the outburst of King, who was so very worried about gloomy fate of Tamriel.

In practice, of course, the fate was averted due to the _tragedy_ that had befallen on Alduin.

Alduin – the dragon destined to end the world, but winded up being ended with a punch in an almost anticlimactic way. And its death went entirely unnoticed by most of Tamriel… Not even the one who had demolished it paid any mind on its demise.

In other words, Alduin died completely in vain.

This conversation of King and Saitama was de facto pointless as well.

Inevitably, Saitama made a purportless claim. He said, "Hmm… Can't let that dragon roam freely…I will go find this Alduin and take of it."

"Wait." King spoke as Saitama stood up. "Are you going after it?"

"Yeah."

"But I thought… you are not the Dragonborn. What are you going to do when you find Alduin?"

"I don't know. Punch it? I'll figure it out then."

"That is not… I mean… Why? Why going after Alduin if you are not the prophesied one?"

"Because I am a hero of hobby."

With that said, Saitama grabbed his own bag and started to walk away, and King could only gaze silently, wondering the connotation of their conversation.

This was the commencement of another search for Alduin. A search in which a Dragonborn looking for a dragon that he had already killed. Unsurprisingly, Saitama encountered a problem even before he began.

Stopping dead on his path within less than fifty feet from King, Saitama trotted back once more.

"I just remember something." Saitama said, almost embarrassed. Namely, he was not.

King did not find a word, and waited for Saitama to proceed.

Saitama declared. "I have no idea where this Alduin is. Do you happen to know something about it?"

 _Then where are you heading just a moment ago?_ King thought, as he shook his head. "No. But Esbern might. He is in Castle Dour in Solitude."

"Castle in Solitude…" Saitama pondered and immediately mistook it as another castle, Blue Palace, in the same city. "I think they won't let me in there because of the stunt Genos pulled last time."

Then King volunteered for something he had not thought about thoroughly. "I can go ask Esbern."

"Oh… thanks I guess." Saitama was satisfied. "In the meantime, do you have some other comics I can read?"

And here was how this _Alduin search_ started. With a fake Dragonborn heading towards Solitude to ask the whereabouts of Alduin, whereas a real Dragonborn heading another place to locate the stash of comic books belonging to the fake Dragonborn…

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that Alduin was a goner by this time, it was anyone's guess. One thing was for sure, they were _not_ going to find Alduin.

* * *

 **AN: Hopefully, I'll get the next few chapters out without complication. And thanks for reading/reviewing/supporting.**


	47. §3: Take Up No Arms

**AN: I guess here I'll explain more about the "death of Alduin" in this story. As I said before, the characters in the fic all have quite limited perspectives, so many of them do not know the Alduin's defeat and some don't even know its existence.**

 **Here I will list the characters that know/remember Alduin is gone (at least those I can think of now): gods and other otherworldly powerful beings (such as daedric princes), dragons (Normal people are unlikely to get news from them because they are… well… dragons…), Mirrak (He is not in Tamriel), and Greybeards (They got the info from their dragon leader but live secludedly in mountains and don't really interact with others).**

 **So Saitama, Genos, King and the Blades are all not on the list…**

* * *

 **Breezehome, Whiterun City**

Lazily leaning against the backrest of a chair and propping his feet on a cupboard, Saitama was reading another volume of comic book King had lent him. Well… To be exact, Saitama had asked King for borrowing more comics and King loaned him the key to Breezehome, where King kept part of his collection.

That was how Saitama ended up in this place. Also, King said Breezehome was a good place to talk in private when King got more information on that dragon named Alduin.

Judging from the conversations they had had before they had gone on separate ways, Saitama supposed King was a nice enough guy. A bit faint-hearted, yes. But overall decent. Particularly when considering the man's willingness to lend out his manga.

Saitama closed the book as he finished the last page, and jumped to his feet, stretching.

Breezehome was a nice house, warm and cozy. Moreover, it was quiet, especially when Genos was not around, since the spellsword had left Skyrim for a while to fix his damaged dwarven compartment. And King…

Shouldn't there be at least some news coming from King after these days of waiting?

As if on cue, the sound of knocking arose at the front door, and Saitama open it to greet a man that was not King.

It was a courier outside. A courier who carried a letter from King.

To Saitama's dismay, the content of the letter had nothing useful on Alduin. In fact, King wrote that he could not find both Esbern and Delphine at Castle Dour, since they had left Solitude for some unknown reason.

So it seemed Saitama had to wait here for a while longer. And he was almost running out of money.

* * *

 **The Bannered Mare, Whiterun City**

So looking for a temporary job Saitama went. And where better to look than the local inn?

After entering the boisterous tavern, Saitama headed straight towards the innkeeper – a brown-haired older nord woman whose name Saitama never bothered to remember.

Originally, Saitama was meant to ask for some quick labor task, such as cutting woods or delivering things, like the quests he usually could get. However, the innkeeper smiled apologetically, stating there was no such errand available presently.

Although unsatisfied, Saitama was ready to leave, but the woman called him out as he walked away.

"Wait… There is a job offer around the city." The innkeeper said with hesitation, as if unsure whether she should continue. "Perhaps you are not cut out for it, but you can check it out if you want. The Companions… In Jorrvaskr… They're recruiting new members, from what I hear."

"Oh… Okay." Saitama nodded and exited the tavern without halting his steps,.

Saitama guessed he would go and see what was this _job_ was about. Maybe it was about distributing some flyers for the recruitment? He just hoped it was not too troublesome, like delivering a book from Windhelm to Solitude or something.

After inquiring _only_ four passerby, Saitama managed to find the so-called Jorrvaskr – a large mead hall too obvious to miss by accident, and he entered the building without pause.

Once inside the wooden structure, Saitama immediately noticed an elf male and a nord woman sparring empty-handedly. Spectators surrounded the two fighters, cheering occasionally.

In short, nothing interesting.

Therefore, Saitama proceeded to wander around in the building – he was here looking for a job, not watching a boring fight. No one paid enough attention to Saitama to try stopping his aimless roaming, which took him to the basement eventually. At the end of the hallway, Saitama found the only two persons in the house who were not viewing or participating the brawl.

Two nord males, an old man and a middle-aged guy, sat face-to-face next to a round table against the walls, discussing some serious matters. Not that Saitama should understand anything about those. The two men halted their discourse, either seeing Saitama's approaching or having reached a conclusion.

Saitama took the opportunity to explain the reason for his visit. "Hey, you are the companies? I am looking for works."

The middle-aged guy furrowed his brows at that. "Not companies. _Companions_. Do you even know who we are?"

"No." Saitama answered in a matter-of-course manner. Why would he know anything about this group?

The old Nord gazed at Saitama intently, scrutinizing and mulling over. "The question of who we are carries more weight than you may know, newcomer. The sort of thing some of us spend our lives pondering. The difference between a noble band of warriors and a ragged bunch of assassins is as thin as a blade's edge. I try to hold us to the right path."

"Right…" Saitama was not sure what these man were thinking. The old man's answer did not actually say anything… at all. So if they themselves were not sure who they were, why became displeased when Saitama got their title wrong? And why was the man explaining the nature of their group when Saitama did not ask anything about it and was not slightly interested.

There were indeed all kinds of strange people in Skyrim.

The old man resumed his speech. "You would like to join us? Here, let me have a look at you. Hm. Yes, perhaps. A certain... hmm... strength of spirit."

"Wait," said Saitama, "When did I…"

The other Nord cut in, directing at the old man. "Master, you're not truly considering accepting him?"

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas." The eldered replied. "And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with… with a fire burning in their hearts."

"Excuse me." Saitama tried to speak up once more. "I was saying…"

But the younger Nord, Vilkas, ignored him again, and kept talking to the old man. "Apologies. But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."

The not-master old Nord neglected Saitama's wordsas well. "Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is... their heart."

"And their arm," said Vilkas.

"… Of course," said the old man.

At this point, Saitama was all but ready to tell the two to shut up and listen.

It almost caught Saitama off guard when the old man turned towards him and asked, "How are you in a battle, boy?"

"Hey!" Saitama blurted out. "I am not here to join you Companions, alright? I just want to get a temporary job!"

With Saitama's emphatic exclaim, silence occupied the air at once.

The man named Vilkas was the first to speak after the eruption. To the old Nord, that was. "Harbinger, perhaps the new comer is not ready to…"

The elder waved his arm, interrupting the other's sentence, and kept his gaze on Saitama. "Prove you have the honor and strength. Earn your place as one of us. Then we shall talk about the work you are looking for."

Saitama was somewhat discouraged. Prove he had the honor and strength… What did that even mean? If making money was so troublesome here, maybe he should look elsewhere. "Sounds like a lot of trouble… I'll just…"

"Vilkas." The old man interjected. "Take him out to the yard and see what he can do."

Why did Saitama get the feeling that this old guy was oddly persistent on him joining them? Suspiciously persistent…

The mid-aged Nord threw a puzzled look towards the elder, but did not protest, heading to the doorway and gesturing Saitama to follow.

Saitama stood in his place, uncertain whether to go along, but eventually relented. He supposed he could always quit the membership if this proved to be some sort of scheme or too bothersome. Besides, he really needed to get some money.

Hence, Saitama trailed after the man called Vilkas without further consideration on the strange behavior of the old man.

* * *

Vilkas, however, was quite mindful of the strange behavior of the elder Nord whose name was Kodlak – a man Vilkas very much respected. The old man was, after all, the Harbinger.

While the Companions did not have hierarchy system as most guild had, there was a sub-group consisting of their most important members called the Circle, and there was the Harbinger, the chief councilor and arbitrator who was the closest thing they had to a leader.

Therefore, the words from Kodlak carried considerable weight in the Companions, and Vilkas held great reverence for the senior.

But what Kodlak just said did not make much sense to Vilkas. The old man showed repeated insistence on the newcomer joining in the Companions, against the protest from both Vilkas and the newcomer himself. Such an action was odd enough per se, and the newcomer's traits Vilkas had observed made the act even weirder.

If this stranger had an intimidating stance or at least seemed to have some unusual quality, Vilkas could more or less speculate the intention of their Harbinger. However, this bald man looked extremely regular in all aspects – his appearance, built, outfit and posture – none of those showed any sign of the man being a warrior or mage. The bald man did not even had any armament or enchanted piece on him. Moreover, there was this careless demeanor of the bald man, out of either ignorance or indifference, which Vilkas disapproved in any case.

Vilkas was somewhat disdainful of the idea that this man became a member of the Companions.

Casting another glimpse at the bald man behind him, Vilkas let his mind drifted to the query from Kodlak.

 _Take him outside and see what he can do…_ Vilkas just hoped "what the man could do" had something to do with fighting, since that was what Companions were needed for, not cleaning the floor or selling merchandise. But Vilkas had much doubt on this stranger…

Thinking as he walked, Vilkas led the newcomer across the basement, back upstairs, and out of Jorrvaskr, in which the sparring was still going on. Finally at the center of the backyard of their headquarter, Vilkas stopped and turned around, facing the bald stranger, who was standing there oddly like a piece of wood.

Vilkas suppressed a sigh. "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this…"

The stranger interjected, not waiting for Vilkas to tell him what to do next. "I have a question."

"Of course you do. I haven't finished explaining." Frowning deeply, Vilkas realized he did not like the man's attitude… at all. "As I was saying, just…"

"How do I quit after I join your guild?" The bald man asked, passiveness written all over his face.

"Stop interrupting me! What…?" Vilkas' anger was briefly distracted by the unconventionality of the question, but immediately returned to its force. "You haven't even join us! And you are already asking to quit? Do you understand the meaning of being a Companion? We try to uphold the legacy of Ysgramor. To bear his good name such that it never be forgotten, and always be spoken with reverence. From what I see, you completely lack of the honor and strength to… Where are you going!"

The bald man was trotting away, only to stop shortly at Vilkas' demand.

"Uh… I am leaving." The man turned around, not showing any sign of shame. "And looking for another job."

"Who says you can leave?"

"I thought you say you are not going to…"

"I promised Kodlak I will test your strength." Vilkas gritted out, beastblood almost boiled within. "So _I will_."

"…Is the guy having a mood swing?" The newcomer's mumbling did not escape Vilkas' perception, and only made him more upset.

"Now!" Vilkas said out loud, before trying to calm himself down. There was no point wasting his energy raging over a fool. Instead, Vilkas took a deep breath and raised his shield. "Have a few swings at me so I can see your form."

The man stared blandly, making his expressionless face looked almost contemptuous. "You sure you can take it? I don't want to accidentally…"

"Yes, I can take it!" Vilkas was losing it again, unable to accept being underestimated. Did the fool really think he could cause any harm? "Just do it!"

"Oh… Okay…" The bald man still retained that stupid dull look as he answered.

The man reeled his fist… his fist… Then Vilkas remembered this fool did not have any weapon on him.

Hitting a shield with his fist… Just how thick was this man?

And the man's stance… It was nothing like a warrior or fighter. The man stood straight but lazily. The only hint the man was about to strike was the raised fist…

As the man moved his fist forward into a punch, aiming at the shield Vilkas was holding, Vilkas could only expect to hear the scream of agony when the flesh met steel.

In the split second ere the strike landed, Vilkas had to wonder, what did Kodlak see in this newcomer?

* * *

 **AN: So I've decided to go for the Companions first. But don't worry, I think I'll go through all major factions and most daedric princes left in future chapters eventually. Um… perhaps "go through" is not a good description… Maybe "touch on" would be more precise… since Saitama does not give me the impression as a guy who is willing to "go through" that many tedious quests…**


	48. §3: Dream Comes True?

**AN: What I want to say here is not quite related to this chapter, or to any specific chapters. It is just because some other things I've been reading lately reminded of a problem – the problem about characterization.**

 **Of course, I hope I did not and will not make any character in this fic become OOC (such as doing something you cannot imagine he/she would do). But if I do, I want to ask you guys to tell me, so I will be able to fix the error before it propagates. Thanks in advance.**

* * *

Kodlak did not tell anyone the reason behind his anxiousness towards the newcomer – the bald man with an extremely ordinary looks – for even Kodlak himself considered his reason farfetched.

Indeed, it was because of a dream, a dream related to their curse.

The curse of Lycanthropy…

It was a secret of the Companions, only known to the inner Circle – all members of the Circle were tainted with beastblood, and via becoming werewolves in a battle, they gained more strength towards victory.

While some considered it a curse, some considered it a gift; yet Kodlak, along with Vilkas and Vilkas' brother Farkas, were of the former. The other two members of the Circle, Skjor and Aela, on the other hand, believed lycanthropy to be a bless to aid them in combat.

One thing was for certain, the beastblood flowing among the Circle had come to be before the current generation from a trickery of Glenmoril Witches, who had promised Terrfyg, one of the previous Harbingers, to grant the Companions great power in return for their worship of Hircine, the Daedric Prince of Hunt. The lycanthropy was passed down in the Circle of the Companions ever since as their tradition, and as their strength.

From the time of Terrfyg, most of the members of the Circle accepted the beastblood without thinking clear about the implication of lycanthropy when they joined, Kodlak included. However, now entering his twilight years, Kodlak understood the price and the consequences. Acquiring immense power through lycanthropy was in fact selling their souls to Hircine, denying their chance of ascending to Sovngarde and damning their afterlife to the Hunting Grounds – those who died with beastblood would have their soul sent to the realm of Hircine, where they spent eternity in the thrill of hunting and being hunted.

While entering the Hunting Grounds was the wish of some, Kodlak viewed it as a bitter conclusion and sought for a path to Sovngarde – the place where valiant Nord should enter after death.

Kodlak wished to find a cure for lycanthropy.

And strange as it might be, this answer Kodlak had been searching for a long time without avail was partially revealed in his dreams, at least so he believed.

The dreams, or the dream for they were all the same. A reoccurring sequence of scenes that was surreal, odd but tangible at the same time…

In his restless night, a dream unlike the nightmares brought by his beastblood would come to Kodlak every now and then. Kodlak would see the Harbingers before him gained entrance to Sovngarde one by one… until Terrfyg, the Harbinger who first led them to the ways of the beast. Then all Harbingers subsequent to Terrfyg turned their ways to the Hunting Grounds of Hircine, either at their own discretion or being pulled away by the great wolf – a beast from Hircine.

Eventually, it came to Kodlak's turn and he saw no hope for his soul. He would end in the playground of Hircine, as a hunter and as a beast...

Then the scene changed ever so abruptly, almost as if it was another dream.

In front of Kodlak, a man sat upon the soil ground next to a crackling campfire while roasting some sort of meat. The sight was oddly peaceful, with nothing extraordinary at first glance. It was just a regular farmer preparing his meal.

A view that could be seen in any village of Skyrim in people's everyday life. Nothing mystic. Nothing transcendent. Nothing concerning the destination of one's timeless afterlife. Nothing concerning the final fate of the Companions.

It was so quotidian and so… ephemeral…

If it had not been for this scene always following the previous ones, and if it had not been for the gate of Sovngarde still visible during the transition, Kodlak would have believe this was an entirely unrelated dream.

But Kodlak knew it was not.

As a matter of fact, he had a strong feeling it inferred something.

So Kodlak advanced towards the stranger, trying to get a clearer look. The most distinct feature of the stranger was that he was bald, but it was not because of his age or because the man was attempting to look intimidating. No, the man was a simply regular young Breton that Kodlak judged was either a farmer or a…

"Hey, old man." The Breton turned his gaze from the roaring fire, apparently seeing the approaching of Kodlak. "Why are you staring at my food?"

 _Impolite_ , was the impression Kodlak got from the man's sentences. And Kodlak was NOT staring at the man's food…

The bald man continued without waiting for Kodlak's answer, pointing at the roasting meat. "Uh… This wolf is not your pet, right?"

And around this point, Kodlak would jerked awake from this eerie dream, with unanswered questions boggling his mind.

What was the meaning of the dream? Who was this stranger? How was the man related to the afterlife of the Companions? Was the roasted meat from _the wolf of Hircine_?...

Did this dream actually have meaning behind it?

The truth was Kodlak had not been completely certain of it. Even though the pictorial vividness and the frequent reemergence of the vision were both connoting it was not an average dream, its plain peculiarity made Kodlak unwilling to take it seriously, especially when he thought of the dull face of that stranger…

Who would have thought Kodlak would actually meet that man one day?

And the day was today…

The same baldhead, the same unadorned look, and the same indifferent attitude. Kodlak was certain that the stranger who came to Jorrvaskr asking for jobs was exactly the one he saw in his foreboding dreams, and Kodlak intended to find out the significance of such an event, for he was willing to grasp at any hope he could see, however slim it was. Therefore, Kodlak pushed so hard to make Vilkas to test out the newcomer… Almost a little too hard to the point that it risked Kodlak's own prestige with such an abnormal act. Kodlak had not expected this newcomer would be this rude and difficult to persuade.

Now that Vilkas had gone to examine the stranger's ability, Kodlak was finally relieved, as he only had to wait for the result…

On a second thought, perhaps Kodlak should not wait in the basement while Vilkas evaluated the newcomer. What if Vilkas deemed the man unqualified and send him away? What if Vilkas got too harsh on the stranger and traumatized the man?

But as the Harbinger of the Companions, Kodlak knew it might not be a good idea to be so wary of whether the newcomer ended up join them or not. No, the responsibility of the Harbinger lied in guarding the path of the Companions, and if the newcomer did not have the capacity, Kodlak should not inquire the man to be accepted.

Nevertheless, it would not hurt to check out how the examination went, would it?

Having made up his mind, Kodlak strode slowly but steadily towards the backyard of Jorrvaskr.

Just as Kodlak was about to push open the door leading to the yard, he heard a loud crash on the other side of the wooden board.

What just happened?

Instantly, Kodlak rushed through the doorway, half expecting to see the stranger being crushed.

But the scene greeted Kodlak's eyes was that Vilkas lying on the ground, unconscious, while the newcomer stood next to him.

Saitama noticed the presence of the old man right after Vilkas hit the floor, and turned around. Seeing the astonished look on the old man's face, Saitama figured he should explain the situation, in case that they called the guards or something…

"That guy said he can take it." Saitama pointed his finger at the comatose form of Vilkas, since this was completely the fault of that guy, who had showed unreasonable overconfidence but could not even withstand a fraction of a fraction of Saitama's strength. "I didn't really hit him that hard, you know…"

Kodlak was racking his brain to comprehend the situation. It would take much strength to knock Vilkas out, particularly when he was holding a shield. But the stranger did not seem to have any weapon on him. Moreover, if the stranger was telling the truth, he did not use his full force…

After a few more moments of digging through the not-insignificant knowledge in his mind regarding battle, Kodlak reached a reasonable conclusion.

 _Vilkas must have knocked himself out._

Yes, that must be it. When Vilkas had readied his shield for impact, he must have anticipated the full strength from the stranger. And to counter a forceful impact, the best choice was to bash as the hit landed. Therefore, Vilkas must have bashed too hard against a feeble strike, causing himself to lose balance and perhaps hit his head on the shield in the process, thus winded up knocked out. This meant the newcomer's true strength was entirely untested, and Kodlak still could not tell whether there was anything of importance regarding the man…

As Kodlak indulged in his own imagination, Saitama got other ideas.

Not knowing what was going on in the head of the old man, Saitama did not like the prolonged silence. He was quite certain the middle-aged guy who had just passed out did not sustain serious injury, so hopefully Saitama would not get some bounty on him. But at this point, Saitama somewhat doubted the Companions would offer a job to someone who had knocked out one of their members, by accident or not. Saitama decided his best option was to stop wasting his time here and get out as soon as possible. After all, he really needed to make some money.

Without any more words, Saitama started to walk away. However, Saitama's intention of departing was noticed by Kodlak, who immediately snapped out of his contemplation and called out.

"Wait!" Kodlak realized he had to stop the man. It was not looking good. With the peculiar dream of his remained indecipherable and the stranger remained an unknown, Kodlak simply could not let the bald man leave like this. He had to get to the bottom of it, yet he had no idea how…

It was at this moment, another man appeared. Farkas, the brother of Vilkas came out from the building finishing watching the sparring inside.

"What is going on here?" Farkas inquired as he saw the odd scene, where Kodlak stood next to the door, a stranger was walking away, and his brother lying on the ground.

Before Kodlak could come up with a proper response, Farkas narrowed his eyes on Saitama and recognition lit up in his eyes.

"You, I know you!" Farkas yelled at Saitama. "You are the chicken killer!"

That sentence, although seemingly coming out of nowhere, succeeded in halting the movement of both Kodlak and Saitama.

Kodlak was speechless, totally confused. What did this have to do with chicken?

Saitama was confused as well. But after a long while of delving into his memory, Saitama recalled an event that might have brought him the hassle – an event in which Genos launched a fireball but unwittingly missed a giant and killed a chicken. So the newly arrived guy got it all wrong.

"I didn't kill the chicken." Saitama shouted back. "The chicken killer is Genos!"

Kodlak watched with bewilderment as the argument between Farkas and the newcomer unfolded. An argument about who had killed a certain chicken. The senseless debate was giving Kodlak a headache, and there was Vilkas, who was still unconscious and was now somehow ignored by his own brother… If other Companions came out and saw this scene, how should Kodlak explain the imperativeness of recruiting this troublesome newcomer without disgracing his status as the Harbinger? Surely he could not say it was all because of a dream.

Then a thought occurred to Kodlak. A temporary solution that would take care of most of the current problems, at least the ones in Kodlak's mind. He would have to get the newcomer away from Jorrvaskr, and perhaps let Farkas oversee the man's fighting ability…

"Boys! Shut it, would you?" Kodlak interrupted the on-going dispute, gaining the attention of both parties. "Farkas, the trial of the newcomer is incomplete. How about you take him in the field with you and get him something to do?"

Farkas paused shortly, unable to follow Kodlak's logic with his not-so-bright brain, but eventually chose to obey the Harbinger as he usually did.

"Of course." Farkas signaled Saitama to come along. "Let's not waste any time then."

Saitama, not knowing anything about Kodlak, did not register the old man's behavior as an abnormality; rather, he considered it another case of the overall weirdness in this Companions group. The weirdness was not contagious, was it? And should he follow that guy who had just showed up and insisted that Saitama had killed a chicken?

Sure, why not? If the guy was leading Saitama somewhere else, he was probably going to offer some job Saitama was looking for, right?

* * *

 **AN: In TES cannon, Kodlak** **did have a dream, although the content is somewhat different. You can check his journal in game to see the original stuff. And as a result, I won't explain why he had the dream, just like it was never explained in game.**

 **And in case you forget about the chicken incident, it is from chapter 37, where Farkas made his cameo.**


	49. §3: Proving Dishonor

Farkas was on a mission to retrieve a fragment of Wuuthrad, a legendary battleaxe that was closely related to the history of the Companions. And he had no idea why Kodlak asked him to let the bald man tag along. At least that was what Farkas thought the old man meant. Then again, Farkas respected the wisdom of the old man, and assumed Kodlak wanted the newcomer on this specific task for some important reasons.

Not that Farkas would be aware that Kodlak actually had not known what task Farkas had on his hand, and only had sent the newcomer on the job as a temporary solution to get the man out of Jorrvaskr...

Saitama was still wondering whether this man named Farkas was going to offer him a job. That was why the old man sent him, right? Or did he misunderstand something? The elaboration from Farkas was also useless, since the guy never provided Saitama with any useful information regarding to job finding or the rewards, almost as if the man himself was out of the loop as well. All Saitama could extract from Farkas was that they were going to a tomb to find… something… as Saitama did not fully remember what the item was called and did not really care.

But why was their destination so far? Saitama started to get impatient when they had not arrived at the tomb after leaving Whiterun City for quite a while. And it was not helping that Farkas did not keep a constant walking speed, often moving at an erratic pace.

For some odd reason, most people in Skyrim moved in the wilderness like that.

Therefore, it was not solely Saitama's responsibility that he did not halted in time when Farkas suddenly pulled to a stop.

They were right in front of a Nordic ruins, where a large stone mound, half buried in the dirt, lumped slightly, and several stone column dispersed around the main structure. The central part of the mound caved into a crater, styled by its constructors, and a flight of handrail-less stairs winded along the cylindrical wall down the pit, leading to a door with ornate carvings.

Farkas stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs – so abruptly that Saitama unwittingly bumped into the Nord. The result was that Farkas was pushed forward by Saitama's overwhelming momentum, hence fell down the stairs.

To be exact, Farkas missed his footing and rolled down the stairs, humphing as he descended, until finally came to a stop before the door below.

It was fortunate that the drop was only about two-man height, and the groaning from Farkas indicated that he was still alive and conscious.

When Saitama was hesitated whether he should also go down the check the condition of the Nord or perhaps apologize for pushing him down, Farkas called out from beneath.

"Don't worry. I'm good. I just misstepped there." Farkas said as he torpidly picked himself up, unwilling to admit that he was knocked over so easily. He was a tough warrior of the Companions after all.

"But I thought you fell because…"

"Let's get going!" Farkas did not wait for Saitama to finish the sentence, and pushed through the steel door behind him into the tomb.

Saitama watched as the other man disappeared into the darkness of the dungeon, and concluded the guy must get giddy-headed because of the drop. Deciding to follow up in case the Nord had a concussion or something, Saitama jumped down the crater and entered the cairn through the doorway as well.

Before long, Saitama became certain that the other man was fine, for the man was constantly commenting on the state of the dungeon, and, when encountering some draugrs in their journey, valiantly rushed forward.

There was no need for concern then.

Saitama watched absent-mindedly at the scene where the Nord clashed with the undead head on, while the question remained - what was Saitama doing here? He did not suppose he was here to defeat some harmless undead, whose only capabilities were wandering around in a dark cave and thrashing at whomever coming nearby.

Besides, the fight was boring, and the Nord was doing alright, so Saitama figured he did not have to get involved. Deciding not to pay any more attention to Farkas, Saitama moved further into the dungeon to search for this whatever quest target.

Farkas only noticed the bald newcomer was gone after finishing off four draugrs, one draugr deathlord included. And for the first time in Farkas' life, he doubted the decision of Kodlak. The bald man did nothing to help in battle, and now was missing. Did the man find this place to scary and choose to flee? That was certainly not the _courage_ the Companions required.

Presuming the Breton probably had run out of the catacomb out of fear, Farkas shook his head and advanced forward. He was going to find the fragment of Wuuthrad one way or another, no help needed.

Farkas was overtaken by mild surprise as he ran into the newcomer again deeper into the dungeon. It was at a relatively larger chamber of the catacomb, and the bald man simply stood at the center, staring at the only path forward.

The pathway was blocked by a steel gate.

Saitama's patience was almost running out as Farkas finally showed up. What took the man so long fighting a couple of draugrs?

"Is it this way?" Saitama asked Farkas, pointing at the gated hallway.

After looking around the room for a moment, Farkas answered, "Yes, I believe so."

Hearing the positive response, Saitama began to walk towards the gate with intention of clearing their path with brute force. But he stopped midways as Farkas called a halt.

"Where are you going?" Farkas was confused at the other's action. Unsmart as he might be, Farkas noticed the lever for gate control shortly after entering this chamber. "The lever is behind you. To the left."

Saitama took it as the Nord did not want him to destroy the gate, probably because this catacomb belonged to the man's ancestors or something. With a barely noticeable shrug, Saitama turned around and headed to the gate switch, which stood on a raised platform inside a smaller compartment linked to the large chamber where they current at. So his first task was to pull a lever? That did not make any sense…

Once inside the compartment, Saitama grabbed the lever and pulled gently.

-CLINK-

For a split second, Saitama thought he had broken the switch, only to realize it was another metal gate dropped behind him whereas the first gate turning open. This second metal gate, just like the first one, was made with metal bars, and it now effectively _trapped_ Saitama inside the smaller chamber.

"Now look what you've gotten yourself into." Farkas arrived in front of the gate, speaking to Saitama through the iron bars. "No worries, just sit tight. I'll find a release."

What did the man meant by "look what you've gotten yourself into"? Saitama was never the one who came up with the idea of pulling that lever… But still, not wanting to pay for property damage, Saitama quenched his urge to simply tear the annoying gate out of his way.

Although Farkas did not really like this newcomer, he did not have the intention to leave his company for dead. When Farkas was about to search the chamber for some mechanic to free Saitama, things took a turn for the worse.

"What was that?" Hearing the movement behind him, Farkas swirled around to greet five armed warriors, who were all drawing their weapons and ready to fight.

Facing the sudden ambush, Farkas made a decision to use that power one more time.

Saitama, noticing the situation of imminent peril, made a decision as well.

* * *

Kvorsen was the leader of the five Silver Hand warriors who currently surrounded Farkas.

The Silver Hand was a group dedicated to hunt down the werewolves all around Skyrim. At least, it was the original tenet upon which the organization was found. Nowadays, however, some of the members acted not much better than bandits did.

Kvorsen was not one of them. No, Kvorsen was a man with a cause, a man who truly believed in what he was doing. The werewolves were foul creatures that needed to be rid of from the mortal world, corrupted by the Daedric Prince Hircine. Driven by bloodlust, those monsters would lashed out at anyone nearby with fierce viciousness.

After transforming into the form the beast, those beings could not tell apart friend from foe, or innocent from guilty. Kvorsen had witnessed one of those creatures ripping apart its dearest lover and closest families in a surge of voracity and ferocity, reduced to the most primal animal by the tainted beastblood, only to return to its human shape later, weeping and mourning his lost loves.

A tragedy that no one should have experienced…

That was what convinced Kvorven all werewolves must die, for death was a better fate in his eyes.

That was why he took this difficult quest willingly – to hunt down a member of the Circle of the Companions.

Some said the werewolves in the Companions were different, more in control of their own doing in their beast form, yet Kvorven remained skeptical. Anyone who thought they could benefit from a deal with a Daedric Prince was a fool, and Kvorven despise whoever becoming a beast on one's own initiative.

For those with lycanthropy, Kvorven deemed death their only salvation. It was what they deserved.

The news of a fragment of Wuuthrad was in Dustman's Cairn gave the Silver Hand a great opportunity. Knowing the Companions would be likely to send one of the Circle member to retrieved it, the Silver Hand had sent their own force in the catacomb to waylay their enemy.

Kvorven and his team had stayed hidden as a bald stranger came into the chamber, followed by a member of the Circle, whom Kvorven recognized as Farkas. After the stranger, probably a new recruit, had foolishly locked himself inside a small quarter, Kvorven decided it was their best chance to attack.

They had one single target – Farkas.

Armed with weapons made of silver – the weakness of the werebeasts, the five Silver Hands marched out of their stakeout in unison. Their advantage in number and armory was obvious.

"It is time to die, dog." Kvorsen was the first to spoke up among his group, contempt in his voice directed at his enemy.

"We knew you'd be coming here." Auddar, the Silver Hand to Kvorsen's right, said aloud.

"Your mistake, Companion." Kvorsen gestured the group to close in on their target.

"Which one is that?" The only female member of the five, Merlla, asked.

Kvorsen was about to replied that it was Farkas, but Auddar beat him to it.

"It doesn't matter. He wears that armor, he dies." Auddar said seriously.

Kvorsen almost chocked on that answer. Farkas was in a set of regular steel armor that could be bought at almost any blacksmith, not one of those wolf armors worn by the Companions… Auddar's eyesight must have worsened lately.

Merlla, on the other hand, did not perceive that glaring error, and continued. "Killing you will make an excellent story."

Farkas, the surrounded Companion, apparently did not perceive the error either. Solemnness written on his face, Farkas bit out. "None of you will be alive to tell it."

With that, the Companion started his transform, turning into the feral wolf.

Tightening his grip on his silver sword, Kvorsen did his best to stay unfazed and get ready to strike.

They had it in control. No matter how terrifying the beast looked, it was only one werewolf and they had five people…

There was something wrong.

The beast was still turning, but behind the bone-chilling roar, the screaking of metal could be heard. Kvorsen turned his gaze in time to see the seemingly harmless bald man, the company of Farkas, just ripped the steel gate caging him out of its resting place like a piece of paper.

What kind of strength was that!? Not even a werewolf could have done that!

Kvorsen felt the blood drained from his face. They now had to confront two enemies, who were much tougher than they originally had thought. Nevertheless, they had no other choice but to fight, even if their chance of victory was slim…

The howling of the wolf ended along with its transformation, and the group held their weapons firm as the werebeast charged forward.

But where was the other man?

Kvorsen lost sight of the bald man after only a split second of losing eye contact, and now he was filled with foreboding by the situation. They had two deadly foes, one was a transformed werewolf, and the other had disappeared from their sight…

By Talos, where was the other man!

But there was no time to fret over the position of the bald man, as the werewolf had rushed within their reach, more ferocious than any other beasts Kvorsen had ever seen. Through the bloodthirsty eyes of the monster, Kvorsen could only see death.

…

Then the werewolf fell headfirst into the dirt.

What in oblivion just happened?

Besides the earth floor cracked by the head of the unconscious beast, the bald man stood, expression blank and right hand half-raised.

Did the man just knock out his own partner?


	50. §3: As Sick as a Wolf

**AN: Here I'll explain something about the previous chapter, regarding the "Farkas was wearing steel armor, not wolf armor" matter. As some of you might know from playing (vanilla) Skyrim, it is an oversight/glitch the game company left, where it is quite funny that in the Proving Honor quest, a Silver Hand can recognize Farkas's identity from a set of common armor that it totally unrelated to the Companions. TBH, there are quite a lot of such instances in Skyrim…**

* * *

Why did the bald man knock Farkas out? Were they not on the same team?

Kvorsen was so confused at the scene that he halted his attack dead, so did all of his comrades. Well, most of his comrades…

One of them, Auddar, was still charging towards the fallen werewolf and the bald stranger, as if not noticing the change of situation, probably because of his poor eyesight.

 _Shouldn't have brought Auddar along_ , was the only thought occurred in Kvorsen's mind, as the uneasy feeling towards the bald stranger rose again in his guts.

However, it was too late for Kvorsen to take any other action, even if he could come up with any, and he could only watch Auddar hurled the silver sword from above towards the bald man's head.

What happened next surprised Kvorsen even more.

The strike from Auddar landed spot on, while the bald man did nothing to avoid or counter it. The edge of the blade collided with the stranger's head, but did not manage to cleave through. Instead, it bounced away as if hitting a rock, slipping out of Auddar's hands due to the unexpected impact, and flew all the way across the chamber until hitting the wall.

Moreover, Auddar himself was still driven forwards by his own impetus, crashing towards the unmoving man. The head of Auddar met the head of the bald man, and the outcome was predictable.

Falling backward with a painful grunt, Auddar ended up sprawling on the ground.

The chamber turned silent again.

Many unanswered questions lingered among the Silver Hand members except for Auddar, who was as senseless as Farkas. Who was this bald man? What was his relationship with the Companions or the Circle? Why did the man attack Farkas, who seemed to be the man's comrade? What kind of strength did the man possess?

Most of all, what in oblivion was going on here!?

"What's going on here?" The question came from, strange as it might seem, the bald man.

"What's goin…" Kvorsen found it ridiculous that the bald man asked that. "You just knocked out two men! What do you mean you don't know what's going on!"

"…" The stranger paused, staring at Kvorsen blankly as if hearing something absurd. "But I didn't knock out anyone… I knocked out a werewolf. And your guy basically knocked himself out…"

 _That actually makes some sense,_ thought Kvorsen, before realizing that was not the point… at all. Perhaps he better started with getting the explanation of some simpler facts, such as…

"Who are you?" Merlla asked before Kvorsen.

"Saitama."

Umm… Maybe that question was a little too simple, in the sense that its answer was not helpful. They needed more specific information to determine the nature of the situation.

"Fine…" Kvorsen shook his head slowly. "Are you a Companion?"

"A companion of whom?"

"No, that's not what I mean." Kvorsen started to feel frustrated at the conversation. "I mean… Are you one of the members of the Companions… in Jorrvaskr… at Whiterun City?"

"Ah, that Companions. Why didn't you say so earlier…" The stranger muttered before continuing. "Actually I am not sure if I succeeded in joining them. Those Companions people are acting weird and their words are quite confusing."

A man who might or might not be a Companion… That was just great. Kvorsen rubbed his forehead. "But you came here with Farkas… Why did you smack him?"

"Wasn't that obvious? He was losing control." The Breton, Saitama, answered expressionlessly.

And Kvorsen thought those with the Companions would insist the Circle members all retained self-will in their beast form. Which side was this man on anyway?

Then Kvorsen noticed the bald man threw the limp werewolf onto his shoulder as if it weighted nothing more than a sack of… uh… air, and began to walk away towards the entrance of the catacomb.

"Wait, where are you going?" Merlla called out. "The fragment of Wuuthrad is in the other way!"

"Yeah, right!" The bald man halted at Merlla's sentence.

Throwing a stern look at Merlla, Kvorsen resisted his urge to facepalm. They were the Silver Hand, the enemies of the Companions. They were not here to help the foolish man, who had gotten his direction wrong, to finish his mission!

"The fragment of wood thread! That's the quest target!"

Wait, what? This was what the bald man getting from the remainder? And what in oblivion was _wood thread_? It was called Wuuthrad… Kvorsen was utterly wordless at the Breton's careless attitude and odd behavior.

Speaking of odd behavior, the bald man started moving again at the same direction, seemingly intended to carry Farkas out of the cave.

"Stop! Where are you going?" Kvorsen shouted, now considering the possibility that the man was retreating to seek help.

This time the man did not stop, but dropped a statement that was unsuspected, almost astonishing. "To cure the lycanthropy."

To cure… Did Kvorsen hear it right? Why had not Kvorsen known lycanthropy was curable before? That would change… everything…

* * *

 **Castle Dour, Solitude City**

"… _The report from Windhelm indicates Ulfric and his men held their end of the bargain, but I would suggest we keep a close eye on their future movement. Ulfric Stormcloak has many traits. Compliant is not one of them. And the embers of rebellion might …"_

King sat on the throne inside Castle Dour, listening to the situation report from General Tullius, while trying his best to look intent and not to doze off.

Frankly speaking, King had absolutely no clue on the current political circumstances in Skyrim and Tullius might as well be talking to the chair King rested on.

"… _While Maven Black-Briar is known to be a supporter of the Empire, her personal interest always comes first when there is a conflict. I worry that the Thalmor may take advantage of it. On top of that, Maven is the one pulls strings behind …"_

Fortunately, the Imperial Officer seemed to be a man who knew his mind. Usually when he brought up a question, he would also provide an answer. Hence, what King did was simply pretending that he understood the full picture, occasionally nodding with approval and, if the above were all unsuccessful, replying to a question with another question. Such strategy had not failed King so far.

King's mind was not currently on the government affairs, however, and it resided on the matter of Alduin, which was the reason he had decided to return to Castle Dour. A regrettable decision as it appeared now…

Where were Delphine and Esbern when he needed them?

King stared unfocusedly as the General carry on his monologue.

"… _Our agent in Markarth reported her investigation was impeded. It's certain that the Silver-Blood family has a hand in this, and their influence in Markarth makes most searches come to a dead end. We have to withdraw her just like our last agent due to the exposure of her identity …"_

It was at this moment two figures showed up in the throne room – one was an elderly Nord with full beard, and the other was a mid-aged woman cladded in leather armor.

Just in time.

Esbern and Delphine were finally back.

For the first time in his life, King felt relieved at the presence of these two. Hopefully, he could get some useful information on Alduin from them, so it would be possible for Saitama to stop the World Eater. King, for one, did not want this world to end.

The briefing from General Tullius was already about to be done, and he finished it concisely in less than a minute, so that King and the two Blades could talk about this important news the duo had brought back, in private.

After Tullius left the room, Esbern cleared his throat and spoke up, excited. "We've located the entrance of the Sky Haven Temple."

"Sky Haven Temple?" King got confused at the opening of this conversation, being quite confident he had never heard of that place before.

Delphine turned her harsh gaze towards the enthusiastic old man. "Esbern, let's start from the beginning. Together with the significance of Alduin's Wall."

"Yes, yes…" Esbern paused for a bit, organizing his thought. "Sky Haven Temple is where Akaviri built Alduin's Wall, to set down in stone all their accumulated dragonlore. A hedge against the forgetfulness of centuries. A wise and foresighted policy, in the event…"

"What Esbern was getting at is," Delphine interrupted the babbling of the elder. "The ancient Blades recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return on Alduin's Wall, both history and prophecy. So it might tell us how to defeat Alduin."

This was good news to King. In fact, this was exactly what he wished to get – some practical information on Alduin. Who would have thought he could get such intelligence so easily?

However, there was always a but.

"We found the Sky Haven Temple, cleared the enemies in its exterior and disabled all the traps around." Delphine continued. "But we couldn't gain entrance to the Temple."

"The gate is blocked." Esbern explained to King. "There is a blood seal. Another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by... well, blood. Your blood, Dragonborn."

"We request your presence at the entrance, Dragonborn," said Delphine.

So it required the blood of a _Dragonborn_ to open up the gateway inside Sky Haven Temple? This was not good… As far as King knew, he had never even met a Dragonborn! How was he going to open that seal?

Racking his brains, King could only think of a response at the moment. "Mark the place on the map. There are some other businesses I have to tend to in other cities… alone… immediately. So I'll go there afterwards… _alone_. Don't wait for me."

"But I think it would be better if we go there together." Esbern voiced his objection, wanting to see the interior of the Temple as soon as possible. "Perhaps we can…"

"No," King interrupted, stopping shortly to come up with a good excuse. "The other things I have to do is quite urgent, and will take up some time. In the meanwhile, I need you two to… reconstruct the Blades to its former glory. Important as you two are, you should not waste time waiting in this dire period. The future of Tamriel depends on not only the Dragonborn but also the people around. I will inform you after the seal is opened."

Esbern's intention to further protest was disrupted by Delphine.

"Dragonborn is right." Delphine said. "While Alduin's Wall might be a crucial piece of the puzzle, we cannot put all the eggs in one basket, not when the whole world is at risk. In order to face the ultimate threat, we must become as prepared as we can. Rebuilding the Blades will provide us with more edge."

And that settled it.

After a few more unnoteworthy exchange, Delphine and Esbern left the throne room, leaving King to his own devices.

Relieved at last, King realized all he had to do was to send a letter to Saitama asking for a meeting, in which they could figure out how to open the seal of the Sky Haven Temple.

King just hoped there was a method to unseal the gate without using the blood of the Dragonborn… oh… and Alduin would not be showing up soon.

* * *

 **Somewhere east of Whiterun City**

"For the last time, we are not bandits!" Kvorsen all but yelled. "We are the Silver Hand! Werewolf hunters!"

Saitama stared blankly at the overreacting Nord. But these _Silver Hands_ around Saitama did dress like bandits, act like bandits and hide in the cave like bandits…

Bandits or not, they kept following Saitama ever since in the catacomb. According to the leading man, they wanted to see if it was true that lycanthropy could be cured. If it was, they might change their policy towards werewolves from "kill-on-sight" to "cure-on-sight".

That was the reason why half of the Silver Hand members inside the Dustman's Cairn, Kvorsen's team of five included, had chosen to chase after Saitama on this _cure-Farkas_ journey.

"Fine, whatever… Not-bandits, it is still not alright to kill someone just because they are sick…" Saitama said. "That's barbaric…"

Sighing deeply, Kvorsen decided to ignore the appellation in Saitama's statement.

"How exactly are you going to cure the man?" Kvorsen asked, gesturing at Saitama's shoulder, where rested the still unconscious Farkas, who had returned to his human form a while ago.

"I remember there is a cave." Saitama explained. "A priest inside can cure him by blessing him or something."

A blessing from a priest. Sounded easy. A little too easy. Once more, Kvorsen doubted the credibility of the bald man. "That's it? Do you have to prepare anything for the ritual?"

"No, I don't think so…"

Kvorsen found it hard to believe but chose to remained quiet, not wishing to start a pointless argument. This bald man was unquestionably tough, Kvorsen knew from the previous three instances where the man had displayed his capability – tearing off a metal gate, knocking out a werewolf and making a sword bouncing off his head. If it had only been one, Kvorsen could say it was an accident. But three? There must be something to this man beyond his appearance.

Kvorsen's thought was interrupted as the sound of groaning came from Farkas, who was apparently regaining his sense.

Saitama noticed it as well, and dropped Farkas on the ground instantly.

Propping himself up from the floor, Farkas tried to pick himself up. "What happened? Where is this place? Who…"

Suddenly, recognition lit up in Farkas' eyes, as his fuzzy mind identified the people around him.

"Silver Hand!" Farkas gritted out. "I don't know how did you knock me out in the first place. But you will regret not killing me when you got the chance."

With that being said, Farkas jumped to his feet and attempted to transform into a werewolf.

Or at least that was what Kvorsen believed the Companion was doing, since Saitama knocked the man out before any fur showed.

Well… At least they were already half way to their destination, and Farkas probably would not wake up again before their arrival.


	51. §3: The Sanctuary for All

**AN: Sorry for the slow update rate lately, since I am kinda busy these days. And there was the thing that I am still considering certain plotlines related to some certain quests…**

 **Anyways, I think this is supposed to be the 50** **th** **chapter, not counting the author's note, so yeah… way to go.**

* * *

 **Eldergleam Sanctuary, Eastmarch**

Trailing after the bald man, who was carrying the human-formed unconscious Farkas, Kvorsen and his mates arrived at this naturally formed cave, where they expected to be another damp and dim dungeon. Rather, they saw a picturesque view.

The cave was nothing like others of its kind. Darkness, somberness, flickering torch fire, eerie echoes in the silence or ghostly airstream that gave intruders goose bumps – none of these held sway over this cavern. Instead, moderate sunlight seeped through the cracks on the dome of the cavern, providing adequate energy for a variety of plants to thrive on. Gentle streams and rich fauna gave the cave a presence full of life and prosperity, whereas the cold stonewall of it surrounded and guarded the haven, standing in millennium wordless dormant. The light fused with the dark and the animated woven with stillness, creating a view that was almost stunting.

It was the beauty of the nature at its finest.

However, the place was not lack of human touch, with a beaten path winding into its depths, and the place was not lack of visitors either… In fact, Kvorsen could see quite a lot of people after delving deeper into the Sanctuary.

It was strange that there were dozens of people scattered around such a peaceful location. What was even stranger was there were all sorts of people. While it was unsurprising there were many individuals looking like priests, monks or pilgrims in this seemingly sacred grove, there were also many seemed to be random tourists. Furthermore, some folks even appeared to be of the shady types, lurking around with scents of blood on them.

Just what kind of place was this?

Kvorsen shook his head forcefully to clear up the questions in his mind when he saw someone walking towards his group.

It was a priest of some sort, wearing the robes, hood and all. After stopping right before them, the stranger greeted the bald man.

"Good to see you again, Saitama." The priest said. "It's been a while."

Saitama remained quiet, confusion written on his face.

Noticing the hesitation, the priest continued. "It's me, Sinding. Don't you remember?"

The silence dragged on, and Kvorsen had reason to believe it meant either the priest was up to something, or the bald man really forgot an acquaintance.

Although the awkwardness seemed to somewhat deter the priest, Sinding, the man eventually chose to remind Saitama. "A couple of months ago, we met at Falkreath. You were with that friend of yours… Genos, correct? You promised to help me get rid of the curse of Hircine, and we traveled together. You should at least remember the beast of Hircine… A majestic white stag… The most magnificent creature I have ever seen… Uh… You and your friend demolished it, I know… But it was beautiful before that…"

"Stop it right there." Saitama raised his free hand. "I recognize you now. You are the werewolf guy. It's just your drastically changed dressing style is confusing."

"Oh… You mean the priest robes?" Sinding pinched his clothes. "I've decided to become a priest of Kynareth not long after your departure. And it is a good thing that I did, since the business - if you can call it that - in the Sanctuary are growing quickly. You can see things have altered a lot since the last time you came here. The number of visitors has increased substantially… Perhaps it is because Maurice is a very dedicated priest, and most of his prayers are answered by Kynareth. Or perhaps it is because of that rumor…"

With that, Sinding lowered his voice and whispered into Saitama's ear. Most of the words were lost to Kvorsen, but the only fragment he grasped was enough to unsettle him.

It was merely two words…

 _Dark Brotherhood._

It could not be _that_ Dark Brotherhood, could it? Looking around carefully, Kvorsen now could see some of the settlers were indeed with an atmosphere of death, and he could not tell how many stayed hidden in the disguise of regular visitors. What did an organization of assassins have to do with some priests!?

Kvorsen had not anticipated this could be such an insidious situation. But he supposed he should not have to worry too much, since they did not intend to stay for long… only until they could confirm that lycanthropy was curable.

Kvorsen snapped out of his musing in time to hear the conversation between Saitama and Sinding coming to the curse of werewolf.

"… a werewolf. This man wants to be cured too?" Sinding gestured at the limped form of Farkas, before checking behind him. "I see… Maurice is rather busy currently. While I haven't done this before, I believe my prayer should be effective as well. It would be my pleasure…"

Immediately, Saitama threw Farkas on the ground and urged. "Then just do it!"

Sinding nodded, kneeling besides the lying-down Nord, and started his prayer.

Like how most of the blessings proceeded, an aura of divine healing light enveloped the patient with a soothing tinkle. All members of Kvorsen's group watched attentively as the prayer of priest persisted, longer than normal healing spell. The scene was oddly peaceful and solemn at the same time.

Finally, the divine shine faded, and the priest slowly stood up. "It's done."

As if on cue, the frame of Farkas stirred, and his eyelids fluttered. Opening his eyes, Farkas regained his focus as he set his sight on Sinding.

"How do you feel?" Sinding asked newly awakened man.

"What's going on…" Farkas grumbled.

"Your lycanthropy is cured," answered Sinding.

"My lycanth…" There was a pause in Farkas' sentence, and the Companion closed his eyes shortly to feel out his beastblood, before widening his eyes. "It's… gone… I am cured? I am cured! Kodlak is right. The curse can be removed… I have to tell the old man! …. But before that. How was I cured? My recent memory is a blur…"

Kvorsen and his comrades gawked in silence. That was it? The allegedly incurable disease of Hircine was removed just like that…

Still, it was hard to believe the lycanthropy could be cured by a simple prayer from a priest of Kynareth. No complicated ritual, no tremendous sacrifice, and no legendary deed involved.

Just a simple prayer, and then the beastblood within Farkas was cleansed.

How anticlimactic...

It took some time for the astonishment of the Silver Hand to die down. During the whole time, Farkas was talking to the priest, discussing about lycanthropy, while Saitama…

Kvorsen just noticed the bald man had disappeared, probably when all of them were focusing on the unusual recovery. That hardly mattered now, as Kvorsen's group had the new problem concerning their future path. They would first have to report the news back to their headquarter, so the leaders could decide whether killing all the werewolves should still be their ultimate goal, or curing them would be more beneficial…

Curing them… Korvsen halted his train of thoughts as he barely reached some peculiarity about current situation, but the idea flashed by and vanished without a trace, leaving Korvsen lost. What was it? There seemed to be something wrong. Something very important…

They had witnessed everything – the too-friendly priest of Kynareth, the disappeared bald man, the undramatic prayer, and the excited-to-be-cured Companion…

No, the claimed-to-be-cured Compnaion…

Wait, was the lycanthropy REALLY CURED?

Those with beastblood, unlike vampires, possessed no visible symptoms that could separate them from regular people. They might have hidden bloodlust or certain weakness to silver, but none was outwardly observable. Therefore, Kvorsen had no way to confirm whether the disease was cured, unless Farkas transformed again to disapprove it. All they had was the assertion of the Companion and the priest. And the disappearance of the bald man only made the event look more suspicious.

This whole thing now oddly smelled like _a fraud_. Perhaps it was to sway the Silver Hand off their trail, or perhaps it was to divide them.

One way or another, Kvorsen was not at all happy about it.

"Do you think we are stupid!?" Kvorsen walked between the still talking Companion and the priest, shouting in a voice loud enough to raise eyebrows. "You said the lycanthropy was cured. But was it? Do you have any proof for that?"

The rest of the Silver Hand quickly caught up on Kvorsen's judgement as well.

"Yes, we need more than your words!" One of the group said. "We need proofs!"

"Right! How do we know you are telling the truth?" Another exclaimed. "A Companion and a priest we never have heard of. As far as I'm concerned, you could both be liars."

All of Kvorsen's comrades started to clamor, picking holes in current circumstances or demanding evidence.

"Is the man in robes really a priest of Kynareth?"

"And where is that bald man? Did he flee in fear of his lies being exposed?"

"We Silver Hand should not trust anyone related to the Companions!"

The priest seemed to try placating the crowd while Farkas was finally alerted of his enemies, but all were only brining the situation to the brink of a battle. The commotion escalated quickly out of control as opinions that are more radical rose.

Then again, Silver Hand was never a group known for solving problems peacefully…

"This is outrageous! We cannot let such deception pass!"

"We should just kill them."

"Yes! Kill them all and burn down the Sanctuary!"

Feelings were running high among the group of Silver Hand.

Acrimony was spoken, resentment was stirred, hostility was raised, and weapons were drawn.

Yet the first stone was never casted.

The roar of the gang died down when they noticed they were surrounded by twice their number.

Two words returned to Kvorsen's mind…

 _Dark Brotherhood…_

The name resounded in Kvorsen's ear.

Kvorsen knew his group were definitely at some great disadvantage here, encircled by a crowd of either priests or assassins… or both.

Damn! Who was the one yelling about burning down the Sanctuary?

* * *

 **Castle Dour, Solitude City**

It had been a while since King sent the letter for Saitama to Breezehome, where Saitama should be waiting for news as they agreed.

Now King was packing his luggage for his own departure.

The place of meeting was chosen to be Markarth by King. It was after all the closest city to the Sky Haven Temple. Besides, the package King had ordered the last time he passed through Markarth should be arriving.

* * *

 **Some distance away from the Eldergleam Sanctuary**

It was a miracle that all Kvorsen's group survived escaping the Sanctuary.

Yes, they had decided running away was a better option than engaging in combat and attracting more enemies to them, since picking a fight with the Dark Brotherhood did not seem like a good idea. All they had done was to crack an opening in the weak spot in the enemy line and run like crazy.

It worked.

And for some reason their foes had not chased them to the outside of the cave.

Once gaining some distance from the cavern, the band regrouped to assess their casualty. Fortunately, none of them was severely hurt. Most only sustained minor cuts and bruises from either their clash with the enemies or accidental stumbling in the haste. The most injured man among them was Auddar, who had unwittingly tripped over a pebble and crashed face first into some pile of boulders due to his bad eyesight, and the man's nose was still bleeding…

These _lucky survivors_ were finally relieved when they realized their getaway turned out successful.

However, the solace did not last, as they immediately encountered an unexpected group.

Kvorsen recognized some of the group were members of the Silver Hand, such as Krev the Skinner, one of the leaders of them. Nevertheless, many others were never seen by Kvorsen before, including the three walking at the front of the rank – one woman in the middle and two men at her flank.

The newly arrived group drew closer to Kvorsen's band, and Kvorsen could see Krev whispered something into the ear of one of the man at front.

Uncertain how to react, Kvorsen and his mates waited until the strange group stopped before them.

From the newly arrived crowd, a man – the thinner of the foremost two men –stepped forward and proclaimed. "Listen up, the remnants of the Silver Hand."

"What do you mean the remnants of the Silver Hand?" Kvorsen was not sure he heard it right.

"It means we have already taken over all your bases. And your people have either fled or joined us." The same thin man said. "There is no Silver Hand anymore. Only the Blizzard Group."

Kvosen's jaw dropped. Silver Hand was no more? Blizzard Group? They had just left their base for a couple of days! What in oblivion had happened during that period!?

* * *

 **AN: Yes, Blizzard Group just showed up. I will explain some background about them in the next one chapter or two, but it might take a while until they make a formal debut. And I am still not so sure how important their roles will be…**


	52. §3: Been There Before

**AN: Hello all! As you know, the Blizzard Group showed up in the last chapter, so some explanation on the Blizzard Group will be made in this one. But certain details will be different from the original OPM universe, due to the TES settings here.**

* * *

Saitama had sneaked out of the Eldergleam Sanctuary around the time Farkas was cured, not wanting to get involved in a purposeless fight if the Companion recalled being knocked out – he had gotten into too many of those lately… There was no point for him to stay in there anyway.

As a result, Saitama was currently on his way back towards Whiterun.

One might question why he was not on the way back to Dustman's Cairn to retrieve the fragment of Wuuthrad as the mission from the Companions should go. The thing was… human memory a peculiar thing, and Saitama somehow managed to remember the location of a sanctuary, Eldergleam Sanctuary, he had visited months ago, yet failed to recall the position of a catacomb he had just departed from a day before.

No _wood thread_ then.

Alone, Saitama moved on without any care for the Companion he had left at the Sanctuary, or the Companions in general.

He would admit it, trying to join that Companions group just proved to be too troublesome. Seriously, Saitama had not managed to earn a single coin going through all these hassle, including knocking out a member of the Companions, traveling a rather long distance to a catacomb, knocking out another member of the Companions… Well… perhaps he was not quite cut out to be a guild recruit or mercenary. Moreover, Saitama doubted the Companions would accepted someone whose most contribution currently was smacking their people senseless. He might as well try to join their adversary…

Never mind.

Since he never wanted to be a soldier of fortune, but rather a hero of hobby, Saitama would prefer another source of income with no strings attached. Actually… since now he was in the wilderness, hunting would be a sensible choice.

With that thought in mind, Saitama marched towards Whiterun with the intention of picking up some catching on his way.

It did not take long for Saitama to arrive at the City of Whiterun, where the first thing Saitama did was, of course, selling the pelts of the unfortunate animals he had stumbled upon on his way back – just a couple of wolves in this case. Saitama made a mental note to stay cost-conscious in the near future.

The next thing Saitama intended to do was to head back towards Breezehome, where he could find some comics to read. Nevertheless, such plan was disrupted when a courier showed up in front of him.

The letter from King just arrived, claimed the courier, who handed an envelope to Saitama.

Unsealing the envelope, Saitama fished out a piece of paper, upon which there was only one line of content:

 _Got some news on Alduin. Meet me at Markarth ASAP._

Followed by a near illegible signature of King.

As it seemed, Saitama would not have time to read more comics now…

* * *

 **Fort Mistwatch, Eastmarch**

Kvorsen and his _new comrades_ stood some distance away from the gate of the fort.

Actually, not all of them were new to Kvorsen, as some ex-members of the Silver Hand were also on this unit. The difference was, this was no longer a unit of the Silver Hand, but a unit of the Blizzard Group.

Yes, Kvorsen had joined the Blizzard Group. It had nothing to do with his cause or his plans for future. On the contrary, siding with the Blizzard Group was simply a temporary measure Kvorsen had taken in lieu of being chased into the wilderness once more.

By the time the Blizzard Group showed up after the Dark Brotherhood incident, Kvorsen seriously did not want to get involved in another fight against another group with numerical superiority. So when Kvorsen and his mates realized the two options Blizzard Group offered them were either being recruited or being _cleaned up_ like bandits, they chose the former without much hesitation.

Yet Kvorsen had to wonder… What kind of recruitment method was this!?

And now, _recruiting_ was apparently one of the reasons they came to this Miswatch fort, where a band of so-called Miswatch bandits resided.

Sighing quietly, Kvorsen brought his question to his one of his old comrade, Krev, who was assigned to the same team. "What exactly is the point of all this?"

Krev was caught off guard by the question. "The point of what? If you are talking about the purpose of this unit… Our job is to wait here until the vanguard unit eliminate most of the potential threat, providing support when required, and preventing any foe from escaping this way."

"No, no, that's not what I mean." Kvorsen waved his hand. "I am saying… The Blizzard Group- uh- I mean we- _we_ just travel to some encampment and threaten the dwellers to join us. What are we doing? Isn't it weird? And what is this Blizzard Group all about anyway?"

"I can't say for sure, but from what I've heard, the Blizzard Group is some sort of mercenary group lead by, you know, Fubuki, the Hellish Blizzard. The group was not founded in Skyrim, only came here recently from another province for development. Attacking bandit camps is just a way for us to earn bounty."

"What's with the strange recruitment strategy?"

"The Blizzard Group was doing it before I joined. They said it's because many native factions of Skyrim are recruiting new members as well – College of Winterhold, Bards College, the Companions, hell… I've heard even the Dark Brotherhood is recruiting. That's lots of competition. So what we are doing is avoiding the competitors by thinking out of the box."

"That's why we are intimidating the bandits we hunt to join us…"

"Only the capable ones."

Now came to think of it, Kvorsen considered the idea not too bad, as scaring the bandits would not cause much consequence and it could be done at the same time when doing their quests.

It's two birds with one stone for the Blizzard Group.

"Wait." A conclusion just dawned on Kvorsen. "Does that mean we Silver Hand got recruited because they think we are bandits!?"

Krev stayed silent for a few seconds. "I think you are right…"

Damn! Kvorsen knew they should have purged the Silver Hand of those who acting like bandits.

But it was all too late now, with the Silver Hand disbanded and all.

Shaking his head in defeat, Kvorsen was about to ask more about the disposition of the Blizzard Group, but the door to the fort suddenly opened. The attention of the outside unit, Kvorsen included, was immediately drawn to the gaping entrance. Expecting to intercept out coming enemies, the team poised for a fight. However, what immerged from the dark door way was not their foes.

It was their allies.

By the looks of it, it was yet another bandit camp successfully taken over. Kvorsen was not sure whether he should be glad about it, being once a member of an overthrown group.

One thing was in Kvorsen's mind though.

Looking at the leading woman trudging out of the fort, Kvorsen had to admit the head of his current faction was much hotter than of his previous bosses. Kvorsen did not know why he had not noticed it earlier, but Fubuki, in her tight soot black dressed, looked absolutely gorgeous.

At least that was plus in his current predicament – the only plus Kvorsen could think of…

* * *

 **Markarth City, the Reach**

Saitama made it to Markarth after a couple of days of uneventful journey. Maybe it was due to the general decline of the unlawful activity of Skyrim or it was because Saitama's extraordinary luck; either way, not even a single bandit camp was seen during the trip.

Not that Saitama had anything to complain.

What did bother Saitama was the lack of detailed information on King's letter. In short, he did not know where exactly in Markarth should he find King. So Saitama settled for checking the buildings in Markarth one by one and asking the inhabitants of each.

Someway, such scenario seemed oddly familiar to Saitama. Shrugging off the sensation of déjà vu, Saitama continued his search of King.

The local inn was his first stop, where Saitama, to his disappointment, received a negative response when requesting for King. And Saitama moved on, touring from buildings to buildings in a not-so-systematically order.

It was when Saitama made a visit to the Warrens that he found out something, or more specifically, someone of interest. This person of interest was, nonetheless, unrelated to King, but related to the déjà vu feeling Saitama got.

The Warrens was not exactly a pleasant place. It was where the citizens with low social status in Markarth resided – the poor, the sick and the homeless. Upon entering, one would be instantly greeted with the putrid smell, the depressing dimness and the hostile stares from the inhabitants. While the central hall of the building was not too small, its roof was low and oppressing, and its structure looked decayed and neglected. On both flanks of the hall, six rooms nested, three on each side. The quarters were small and cramped, with only hay piles inside as beddings.

Overall, this place was grim and hopeless, unwelcoming to its residents and visitors alike.

Yet Saitama somehow failed to register the unwelcomeness when he strolled through the bronze door into the Warrens. He simply walked in with the casual attitude as always, and strode towards the first person he saw.

The said person was a Breton male, whose face covered in black warpaint, and was heading out. When Saitama halted the man and was about to ask the man whether King had been spotted nearby, the guy suddenly flared up.

"It's you!" The stranger yelled at Saitama with recognition. "Where have you been?"

The question was not out of concern, however. Judging from the scolding tone, one could easily tell it was out of displease.

"Who are you?" Saitama was not sure the unknown guy got the right person.

"Don't pretend you don't know me!" The man seemed to become more triggered by Saitama's unawareness. "I had been waiting for you at the Shrine of Talos for a whole month. But you never show up!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about…" Saitama's face was completely blank, so was his brain.

"It was after that Forsworn attack at the market place. I slipped to you a piece of paper, remember?" The stranger was now waving his arms in disbelief. "The note should tell you to meet me at the Shrine of Talos. Didn't you read it?"

Silence.

The confused expression of Saitama compelled the stranger to rant on.

"By the eight! Or is it nine now… You genuinely forget it! I can't believe I thought you would do!…"

The man's ravings continued, whereas Saitama finally contrived to pinpoint the source of his feeling of familiarity. Right, Saitama now was quite sure he indeed had met this man, or at least _some man_ , since Saitama could not quite recall the man's face, during his last stopover at Markarth. He had received a note telling him to meet the man somewhere, just like King's letter, and he had to search for the man's location by checking one building after another, just like what he was doing right now…

And Saitama seemed to remember he gave up, or he should say _forgot about_ the search after the incident related to a haunted house and Genos. So the man waited and waited and waited at the Shrine of Talos for Saitama to appear, which had never happened.

No wonder the guy was so pissed.

Perhaps, Saitama should…

Hold on, that did not sound correct.

"Hey!" Saitama interrupted the man's babbling. "Who would wait a _whole month_ for someone he only sees for one time? I don't even know you, and I never promise you I would go to that Shrine. Isn't it weird to pull such an act on a total stranger?"

The stranger was taken off guard by Saitama's words, and stopped briefly. But the peace did not last long. "Oh, so it's my fault now? You could at least tell me you were not coming! You know what? I am done with this… Murder investigation, Forsworn attacks, corrupt guards… Whatever! I don't care anymore. There is just no one! No one is reliable enough to help me out!"

Saitama was not sure what to say. The guy seemed fully indulged in his own little world… Much of what he said just made no sense.

"Uh…" Unable to find a good response to the man's outburst, Saitama chose to ignore it completely. "Anyway… Have you seen King around?"

"What?" The stranger threw Saitama an incredulous look. "Don't change the subject! It's about your… arrggh… Forget it! I got better thing to do than wasting my time here."

With that, the odd stranger pushed past Saitama – in the sense that the stranger _pushed_ Saitama but Saitama did not budged, so the stranger ended up stumbling away, almost tripping in the process, and barely succeeded to wobble _past_ Saitama in his unbalanced status.

Then the stranger rushed out of the Warrens in record speed, leaving Saitama watching without a word.

 _That_ , Saitama concluded, _probably means the guy did not know where King is…_

* * *

 **AN: In case you are curious, the stranger appearing in the last part of this chapter is called Eltrys, who has appeared in the chapter 6 of this fic, the chapter before Genos' first appearance.**


	53. §3: The Wrong End

**AN: Some new minor OPM characters will appear in this chapter, but nothing major. And I'll recount some background stories as well.**

* * *

 **Jorrvaskr, Whiterun City**

In the Harbinger's quarter, two members of the Circle, Kodlak and Skjor, were sitting face-to-face. Between them, pastry and wine were set on the table, untouched, as both men were not in the mood to dig in.

They were in the middle of a discussion concerning some vital affairs within the Companions and without.

"I don't mean to be disrespectful, Harbinger." Skjor leaned towards the table. "But are you certain it is reasonable to send the stranger along with Farkas on the mission? The incident with Vilkas does make the decision seem… _unsound_."

"Yes, I am well aware of what happened to Vilkas…" Kodlak paused as he recalled the event, where the bald newcomer had knocked out Vilkas…

After Vilkas had regained his consciousness, Kodlak realized Vilkas had not _knocked himself out_. The newcomer indeed smacked Vilkas barehanded. This implied the bald man _did_ have impressive strength, and Kodlak regret for not recognizing it in the first place…

The peculiar yet vivid visions at night, the surreal fulfillment of his dream, and the extraordinarily ordinary appearance of the newcomer – all of these clouded Kodlak's judgement more or less, and the dropping of Vilkas was but the final straw. The result was, Kodlak had misapprehended the situation at that time, and now he needed to reevaluate whether it would jeopardize the quest of Farkas by sending the stranger along.

Kodlak also found the lack of information on the stranger discomforting. In fact, Kodlak had not even learned the newcomer's name.

Another fault of his.

The only bright side of the current situation was that the newcomer did not seem to have hostile intention, since the man had never made attempt on the life of any Companion.

"What's on your mind?" Skjor's voice brought Kodlak to present from his thought.

"Farkas," Kodlak said, made up his mind. "I have confidence in him to complete the task. And I believe the newcomer meant no harm."

"How can you be so sure?"

"If the man held malice towards us, he would not have stopped with knocking Vilkas out." Kodlak spoke as he reorganized his thought. "Misled or not, Vilkas cannot be easily defeated as an opponent, but the newcomer has the strength to do just that. So we can assume he is not opposing us, or else we should have seen blood being shed."

Skjor pondered Kodlak's words. "True… But there is the possibility the man is not after us, but something else. Such as Wuuthrad? Then he would not try to antagonize us before he gets what he wants."

"It is unlikely as well. If that were the case, he should not have done something as blatant as knocking Vilkas out." Kodlak deduced. "Keeping a low profile and waiting for the opportunity would be a more logical option."

"You are saying the newcomer knocked Vilkas out by accident?" Skjor mused.

"Yes, and when Farkas come back, we will get a glimpse of the man's true extent on field."

"Farkas should have come back a day or two ago." Skjor frowned.

"Have faith, Skjor." Kodlak did not show any sign of worriedness, not outwardly anyway. "You of all people should know no mission goes completely according to plan. Setting a static time limit on a quest is impractical. While Farkas' arrival is delayed, it hasn't come to the time we should start to get concerned."

"Then we should wait for some more…" Skjor found the all the reasoning of Kodlak to this point somewhat flawed, but could not pinpoint where.

"Yes, we should." Kodlak decided to change the subject of the conversation. "Now… The matter regarding Farkas and the newcomer is not the only thing you came to talk about, is it?"

"Well," Skjor shrugged, conceding. "Agoni and his group arrived at Whiterun yesterday."

"Agoni…" The name did ring a bell to Kodlak. "Was he here… for the Hero List?"

The telltale look from Skjor confirmed Kodlak's supposition.

Those people were here because of _the Hero List_.

The Hero List, as the name specified, was to record the titles and feats of the men and women worthy of being called heroes.

The concept of the Hero List was brought up and put into practice by Agoni – a rich noble from Cyrodiil. It was said that three years ago, the wealthy man and his family had traveled to Skyrim. During this trip, the man's grandson once had gone to the wilderness by himself, and the boy was later attacked by a horde of mudcrabs for trying to draw nipples on them with charcoal… Coincidentally, a passerby stranger saved the child, claiming his dream was being a hero.

This event moved Agoni, and he realized there were many heroes remained unknown and forgotten by the public, and would become lost in history one day. Therefore, Agoni felt obliged to do something, and the Hero List was thus created so all heroes would be registered and recognized. From then on, the underlings of the wealthy man had journeyed from province to province, city to city, in search of those deserving the titles of a Hero.

Sometimes, Agoni conducted the search personally as well, and that was apparently what was happening in now.

The question was who Agoni was looking for in Whiterun, and Kodlak suspected it had something to do with the Companions. After all, the Companions were renowned for their honor and valor. There was no better place to find a person could be called a hero. Therefore, Kodlak would presume it was only a matter of time before Agoni's people came.

Skjor's voice disrupted Kodlak's effort of cerebration. It was, however, not about the hero business.

"I've heard Agoni's grandson is in the group as well." Skjor touched his chin, frowned. "The child is quite a spoiled brat, and took a liking to carving lately…"

Kodlak did not consider Skjor's comment on the young boy surprising, considering the child once drew on a mudcrabs, and waited patiently for what Skjor was getting at.

Skjor went on. "It's unlikely a coincidence that some strange marks are appearing on many buildings in Whiterun after the arrival of Agoni's caravan…"

That was not what Kodlak was expecting. "The child did not carve something on Jorrvaskr, did he?"

"As a matter of fact, I believe he did." Skjor said. "A mark consisting of an inverted triangle and some circle… But worry not. Agoni has sent his men to apologize and clean up the all the mess made in Whiterun. The child was scolded for it as well, or so I've heard. Right, I'll get back to the point. About the Hero List…"

However, Skjor trailed off in the middle of his sentence, turning his gaze towards his right, where the entryway was.

Noticing Skjor's action, Kodlak turned his head as well.

"Farkas?"

Indeed, Farkas had returned and was standing right in the doorway.

"Harbinger," the newly arrived man said aloud. "I'm cured of Lycanthropy!"

Both Kodlak and Skjor were at a loss how to react to the sudden news.

Farkas' mission was retrieving a fragment of Wuuthrad. So how in the world did he wind up cured of Lycanthropy?

* * *

 **Nepos's House, Markarth City**

Nepos the Nose was sitting in his warm house, in front of a warm fireplace, holding a cup of warm tea, while indulging in not-so-warm thoughts.

The thought of death was hardly heartwarming.

Nepos, unlike what his appearance suggested, was not simply a wealthy old man living a peaceful life in the city of Markarth. He was much more.

He was in the center of a storm, a conspiracy, that was brewing in an unseen corner, beneath the facade of peace. But Nepos knew, in the near future, the storm would sweep across the Reach, tear down all obstacles, and destroy anyone in its path, until the Hold was shaken off, until their people rose again.

They were the Forsworn.

They were the product of a long and arduous struggle among the Reachmen throughout the history of the Reach, a land they had claimed to be rightfully theirs.

Indeed, the history of Reachmen dwelling the Reach could be dated back to First Era, and their struggles against the Nords of Skyrim and the army of the Empire lasted for centuries upon centuries. The most recent major instance of such endeavor was the so-called Markarth Incident, where a group of Reachmen rebelled against the Nord rulers and captured the nearly undefended Markarth during the Great War. The newly founded kingdom governed by the Reachmen ruled relatively peacefully, with most unnecessary bloodshed avoided. Nevertheless, the reign came to an end two years later, when Ulfric Stormcloak – who was not yet the leader of the Stormcloaks Rebellion but a leader of a Nord militia at that time – along with his men overthrew the kingdom and started a bloodbath, in which most individuals with the barest association to the revolt were either slaughtered or executed, civilians included. The survivors of the Reachmen revolt fled to the wilderness of the Reach, swore vengeance on the Nords, and became the Forsworn.

That was more than twenty years ago.

Unbeknownst to most, after the Markarth Incident, Madanach, the leader of the revolt, the once monarch of the short-lived kingdom, was still alive, left rotting in the Cidhna Mine – the prison camp of Markarth. Madanach's life was only spared because he made a deal back then with the Silver-Blood Family, the most influential family in the Reach. The deal was that Madanach got to keep his life and had the chance to run the rebellion behind bars, but the Forsworn under his command had to operate for the interest of the Silver-Blood. In other words, these Forsworns would root out any opposing voice towards the Silver-Blood, doing whatever it took.

Nepos the Nose was, in practice, Madanach's window to outside world, coordinating the Forsworn under their leader's command. In appearance, Nepos was working for Thonar, the actual power-wielder of the Silver-Blood family. And through helping with the silver mine business of the Silver-Blood, Nepos gained easy contact to Madanach, so he could receive direct command from the leader.

The alliance between the Forsworn and the Silver-Blood was the dirty secret in Markarth, filled with blood, corruption, oppression and murder. Those who had tried to unveil the truth were either framed or killed. Those who had tried to oppose them were either ensnared or crushed.

Over the years, Nepos had sent many to their death and many to bring death in the name of Forsworn or for the benefit of the Silver-Blood. To be honest, he was tired, nagged by the guilt and regret in his sunset years.

From time to time, Nepos would spend hours sitting in his chair, staring at the flickering hearth fire, lost in thoughts, reflecting on his not-so-honorable past.

This was one of those moments.

Nonetheless, Nepos' musing today was interrupted by rapid knockings on the door.

A visitor…

Nepos' did not move, resting in his chair leisurely, letting his servant take care of it.

As expected, the sound of the door opening reached Nepos' ears, then the voice of his maid, Uaile.

"Excuse me. What's your business here?"

"I'm looking for someone." The voice of the guest belonged to a young man.

"And who that might be?"

"Have any of you seen King around?"

That question took Nepos by surprise. King? Was the visitor talking about Madanach, who was also known as _the King in Rags_. Nepos surely considered Madanach as _his king_ …

"You are looking at the wrong place." Uaile sounded as if she yearned to send the uninvited guest away. "So if you don't have any other business. Leave."

However, Nepos decided to find out what was in the visitor's sleeve. Measures must be taken if the man was indeed searching for Madanach, lest their secret should be exposed.

"Wait." Nepos bade Uaile. "It's okay, my dear. Send him in."

"Hmph. Yes, Nepos." Uaile did not sound all too happy. "You heard him. Go on in."

Although hearing the footsteps of the visitor came closer, Nepos did not turn around. Instead, Nepos kept his eyes on the dancing fire, and spoke to his guest, who halted behind him.

"I'm sorry about my housekeeper. She's a little protective of me." Nepos explained. "Now, who is it you are looking for?"

"King," was the only response from the guest. No further elaboration provided.

"…" Nepos lowered his tea, uninspired, before finally setting his gaze on the visitor.

What Nepos saw was an unimpressive bald man with no sign of extraordinary capacity, unlikely to be the warrior or mage kind.

Nepos furrowed his brow. "Which king?"

"Uh… King…" The young man said. "Is there any other King?"

The last sentence was a question rather than a statement, but Nepos mistook it rhetorical.

Nepos concluded it certainly could not be the High King of Skyrim, who should be in Solitude at the moment. In fact, it would not make much sense if the visitor were searching for any other king in Markarth, other than Madanach. Or so Nepos thought.

How did this man knew Madanach was still alive? Was he investigating the shady deals in Markarth? How much had he found out already?

Shaking his head slightly, Nepos asked, "What do you know about Madanch?"

"Madanach… Is that his name?" The stranger's face remained blank.

Nepos' frown deepened. Did this man only learn of the King in Rags but not the name of the king? That probably meant he knew next to nothing about Madanach. The man must be the most incapable investigator Nepos had ever seen. So perhaps Nepos should not try probe for more detailed information, as all he had done now was revealing the name of Madanach to the stranger…

Well, maybe one more minor probe about who was behind the investigation.

"Who is looking for him?" asked Nepos.

"…" The stranger stared at Nepos for a few seconds, as if not understanding the inquiry, before pointing towards himself. "Me. I am."

Nepos noted it was not working, and decided it was best to convince the dense stranger to drop the investigation once and for all. Which should not be too hard, as the man seemed hardly knowing anything.

"The King died more than twenty years ago." Nepos announced. "I don't know what kind of rumor you've heard. You are not going to find what you are looking for. I would advise you to back off before it's too late. Sometimes, it's best for everyone if you look the other way."

"King died twenty years ago… What you are talking about, old man…" The man showed only dissent, and was apparently ignoring Nepos warning. "Listen. I'm looking for King… If you don't know where he is, just say so. I'll look other place."

Just like that, the visitor started to walk away, but Nepos made no attempt to stop him, since he considered the stranger too misinformed and too unthreatening to warrant an immediate intervention.

Contemplating the current situation, Nepos realized the question remained. Why was this man so convinced that Madanach was not dead while hardly knowing anything about the scheme of the Forsworn?

Indeed, while drastic measures was not required, something had to be done about it…

* * *

 **AN: "The Hero Association" might not formally appear in this fic, since, to my understanding, the concept of "hero" is not quite the same in TES – with less emphasis on morality, but with more accent on valor and power, political power included. And I doubt there can be an organization powerful enough to govern over the deeds of the heroes in TES. Hell, some heroes in history even have become gods or something... As a result, the Hero List probably will not play a very important role in this story, unlike in OPM.**

 **BTW, I don't think the name of King was ever mentioned in OPM series.**


	54. §3: For the King

**AN: I'm trying to write a bit differently in this chapter, so if you find anything confusing or strange, please do tell me.**

* * *

 **Currently**

King had experienced many unfortunate events these days, and in many occasions had thought he was going to die. But now he believed his current predicament was the worst of all.

This was very bad…

King had once been quite happy about the fact that many people in Skyrim still could not recognize his face. His name, yes. But not his face.

It was probably a phenomenon caused by the slow transmission of information in Skyrim. After all, the presence of the _Dragonborn_ had only be known for months.

Such a phenomenon made King's _escape_ from Solitude much easier, and as long as he kept a low profile, he could avoid being hailed by a crowd. And of course he had not used his real name and identity ever since his discreet departure, remaining incognito as he traveled.

King had _once_ been quite happy about the fact that many people in Skyrim still could not recognize his face.

Well… that was before he got thrown into a godforsaken hellhole by a group of men who _failed to recognize him_.

King believed this was very very bad... Just how in the world did this happen!?

* * *

 **Four hours ago, Nepos' house**

Watching the visitor striding away, Nepos the Nose was convinced that he had found the reason why the bald man, who knew nothing about the Forsworn, attempted to find the King in Rags. There was only one explanation for it – the man must have an abettor or an accomplice. To stop the man's investigation, Nepos and his allies would have to find out who it was and take measures accordingly.

Especially when the plan of the Forsworn had come to its final stage.

The alliance between the Forsworn and the Silver-Bloods was never firm, as both sides agreed to it out of necessity and avarice, rather than a common ideal. Their relation was, in a manner of speaking, at a state of unstable equilibrium.

A fragile equilibrium that was about to be broken.

The Forsworn was ready, with their scheme at hand. Their king, Madanach was about to break out the prison, and they would no more have to obey the instructions from the Silver-Bloods. For better or for worse, things were going to change dramatically in Markarth.

In such a volatile circumstance, Nepos did not wish the investigation of the stranger to interfere with their plan, and considered certain rearrangement necessary. However, to avoid further complication, the Forsworn should kept their hands clean when taking care of the situation.

It was best to relay the problem to the Silver-Bloods.

Yes, Nepos would send the news of the investigation and the information on the stranger to Thonar Silver-Blood, telling him the bald man was probing around for intelligence regarding the Forsworn - which was technically true, so it would require some _non-Forsworn_ to find the man's collaborators. In other words, it was the turn for the Silver-Bloods to take action.

Such a shift of responsibility would solve the Forsworn's problem in one fell swoop. It would prevent the bald man from meddling with their plan, and it would distract the Silver-Bloods from noticing the imminent jailbreak. What's more, if the force behind the stranger was stronger than expected, the Silver-Bloods would take the fall, while the strength of the Forsworn would be preserved.

Finally, Nepos decided, before putting their plan of prison break into action, they should wait and see how Thonar and his people would deal the stranger's investigation.

* * *

 **Two hours ago, the streets of Markarth**

A group of guards on the payroll of the Silver-Blood family was currently following a bald man who had only entered the city this day. These corrupted guards were ordered by Thonar Silver-Blood, who had been tipped off by Nepos, to find the person working with the bald man.

But they had no luck so far.

Up to this moment, the bald man had visited another few houses, asking questions, before having dinner at a bench near the marketplace in a casual manner, all alone. Afterwards, the man fished out some book and started reading until it turned completely dark.

The guards had thought the stranger was actually waiting for someone there, yet their expectation was proved erroneous when the man stood up from the seat and began to stroll again. This man was acting as if he was just having a mundane evening time…

The tailing continued.

The guards saw the bald man stopped briefly in front of the door to the Silver-Blood Inn, before turning around and walking away.

Then something odd happened.

The bald man wandered towards the abandoned house in Markarth, a place rumored to be haunted. It was said that no visitor had ever come out of the house alive, and during a particularly severe supernatural episode not long ago, the door to the building was tearing off its resting place, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. Nevertheless, it did not make the people of Markarth more at ease that they could get a glimpse to the interior of the building through the large hole. Instead, they now believed the place was utterly cursed after some claimed unusual happenings were witnessed or heard via the gap, and no one dared to go near and fix the wall.

Presently, most people would rather take a detour than passing before the front of the house, let alone entering it.

However, the bald man just strode straight into haunted house without hesitation.

Was the man suicidal?

The guards pulled to a stop, wavered, looking at one another with uncertainty.

They were taking money from the Silver-Blood family for doing dirty works, not for _throwing away their lives_. After all, a dead person could not enjoy the money. Stepping into a _death trap_ was far beyond their pay grade.

Finally, one of the guard spoke up, spotting something.

"What is this?" The guard carefully approached the hole on the wall without getting too close.

"Looks like… some paper?" Another guard surmised.

The first guard slowly crouched down and reached for the white item, not taking his eyes away from the haunted house just in case.

"I got it!" Quickly, the first guard backed away from the building with the item at hand.

It was an envelope.

There was nothing written on the envelope, but the seal was opened.

"Is there anything inside?" A guard pushed forwards to the one holding the letter.

"Don't be too anxious." The first guard said as he extracted a piece of paper from the envelope. "Let's see… Here it says _'Got some news on Alduin. Meet me at Markarth A-S-A-P.'_ There is a signature below, but it's scratchy. I can't really tell what the name is."

"News on Alduin?" The guard stood nearest mumbled.

"That Alduin?" A guard stayed somewhere behind said. "Isn't Alduin… like gone for a millennium or something?"

"I thought Alduin is just a myth." The previous guard commented.

"It doesn't matter. I doubt this has anything to do with _that_ Alduin. Those nosy fellows are investigating about the Forsworn, not dragons, remember? So maybe it's a code word we don't know." The letter holder dismissed it. "Our job is to search for the accomplice of that stranger. Perhaps the letter is from the person we want?"

"It could be." A guard behind said. "But there is no telling who the person is…"

"There is something on the back of the paper." The guard stood face-to-face to the first one pointed out.

The first guard flipped over the letter, and a small map was revealed on its back.

It was a map of the Markarth City, and a hand drawn circle was marked on the location indicating the Silver-Blood Inn…

* * *

 **A little more than one hour ago, Silver-Blood Inn**

Sitting on the side of a stone bed in a room of the tavern, King was a bit worried that Saitama could not find him in the Silver-Blood Inn since he had not registered here as _King_ …

King shook his head, brushing off the thought, as he recalled he had drawn a map on the back of the letter. Saitama could not possibly miss the map and should find his way here at any moment, _right_?

So King waited in the room for Saitama's arrival.

All of King's confidence was broken when a group of menacing guards, instead of Saitama, showed up at the doorway, conveniently blocking any chance of getting away.

What was going on? Was his identity as the High King exposed? Or did the guards mistake him as someone else?

Imagine how surprised King was when the leading guard presented a letter with King's signature…

"Did you write this letter?" asked the guard.

It was the letter he sent to Saitama... Confused and caught off guard, King nodded almost by reflex, and regretted instantly.

"I told you it's him." The guard to King's left stepped forwards. "The innkeeper said this is the only room occupied today. And, guess what? By a suspicious outlander."

At this point, King was quite certain these guards probably had not yet recognize him as the _Dragonborn_. Which could be a good thing. Yet the guard's last statement somehow gave King a bad feeling…

"Indeed. You must be the accomplice we are looking for." The leader proclaimed. "You're under arrest for murder."

As the last sentence of the guard ended, the rest of the guards swarmed into King's quarter, weapons drawn. The door closed behind them, and the room was now cramped with this many people inside.

"What? No! I did not murder anyone!" King nearly yelled, his voice at the verge of cracking. "There must be some misunderstanding… Do you even know who I am?"

Surely, these guards would stand down if King managed to remind them of his identity as _the High King of Skyrim_ , right?

"We don't care who you are." The leading guard showed no sign of acknowledgement. "We had a nice little deal going between Thonar and Madanach until you and your friend started snooping around. You are getting in our way, so now we have to pin all these recent murders on you. Silence witnesses. Work. Work. Work."

That was a lot information to take in, and King was perplexed once more. What kind of deal and who were those people the guard was talking about?

King's heart was beating like crazy, yet the sound of thumping did not come to the guards' notice for some reason. Perhaps it was because every guard in the room only cared for getting their dirty job done, and paid no heed to other details…

"W-wait." King was completely lost, inwardly swearing at the frequency of him being misinterpreted. His mind was a mess, and he needed time to think.

"Stop fooling around." The guard urged. "You are not talking your way out of this."

King chose to give up thinking about why the guards were framing him, since he doubted they were patient enough to offer him a full explanation. Pleading for innocence was definitely not going to work in this situation, so…

"Just wait. Have you heard of the Dragonborn?" Getting desperate, King thought enlightening the guards of his _title_ was likely the only way out.

However, the guard did not take the hint. "Don't get off the subject. Even if the Dragonborn has some personally relationship with you, he is not going to save you."

"Let's say…" King decided to make his suggestion more explicit. "The Dragonborn and I are so close that we are _hardly two people_. The Dragonborn is the High King of Skyrim, so…"

"Oh? It's _that_ kind of relationship?" The guard narrowed his eyes at King, seemingly misunderstanding something… "It doesn't matter. The Silver-Blood family are the ones in control of Markarth and you're going to serve a life sentence in Cidhna Mine. No one will notify him. Now, come along quietly before we lose our patience."

This was not good for King, as the words from the guards apparently indicated that they understood nothing about the _Dragonborn_. Hence, if King were to claim that he was the Dragonborn or the High King, they would probably ask for proofs – proofs that King did not have, since well… he was not actually the Dragonborn.

But…

…

 _But was he going to flee from troubles for the rest of his life? Was he going to surrender every time he saw a challenge? King asked himself._

 _Was he going to run away from his fate for the remainder of his days, pretending he had not seen the great peril the Nirn was in? Was he going to hide in the façade of cowardliness and never stand up and fight?_

 _No. This was the moment when King would embrace his destiny and he shall accept his true self._

" _I—am—the—Dragonborn—" King announced, stressing each word._

" _Ha-ha-ha! You are the Dragonborn? That is the worst bluff I've ever heard." The guards laughed, refusing to take King's words for it. "The Dragonborn is in Solitude. Being the High King and all. Why would he come to Markarth alone and stay in a regular inn?"_

" _I said…" Taking a calming breath, King clenched his fists and closed his eyes as he felt the rumbling in his chest. "I am the Dragonborn."_

 _Repeating the sentence, more slowly this time, King forced his mind to focus and tranquilize._

" _Can you prove it?" The guard's voice was brimmed with sarcasm. "Or are you just grasping at straws?"_

 _King's eyes snapped opened, as he declared coldly. "You will regret asking for proofs. You are too weak to withstand the power of Shout."_

" _And you will regret for underestimating us!" The guards clamored. "You are a dead man!"_

" _No…" King answered, barely a whisper, sensing the thunder in his chest rising into a storm. "You are the ones who are going to die. Corrupt guards."_

 _When King's speech ended, a loud noise cut through the air, breaking the silence of night in Markarth. The ground trembled and the building shook at the sheer force the voice possessed, until the bloodcurdling sound finally died down._

 _It was…_

 _A Shout._

 _This was it. Approving King's newfound courage and pure heart to stand against evil, Akatosh blessed King with the soul of a dragon and the blood of a dragonborn – right here and right now._

 _The power, the strength of a Dragonborn surged through King, and he immediately knew this was the might to save the world._

 _No enemy would stand in his way. The current condition of King's surroundings was but a testament of that._

 _In the middle of his room, King stayed, his posture stilled. The wall before King along with the door were obliterated into blocks of stone and metal. Around him, the remains of the guards scattered, torn into pieces by the daunting Shout._

 _Then it dawned on King that, for the first time in his life, he had killed someone…_

 _Weakly, King slid down to his bed, sitting motionless._

 _He had killed someone…_

 _Maybe they were bad people, bribed and dishonest. But just a second ago they were living and breathing human beings. King felt he could still sense their presence, as if they were never gone. Their voices still echoed in this chamber._

 _King could almost hear them saying, "Don't zone out! Surrender!"_

…

"Don't zone out! Surrender!"

The barking of a guard brought King back to reality from his vivid imagination.

And, of course, King surrendered just like the guard demanded.


	55. §3: Underneath the Surface

**AN: I'll have to do some correction here. I think the anonymous guest is right. It is extremely unlikely that none of the guards manage to catch the** _ **name**_ **of Alduin, no matter how uneducated they might be. While many people in Skyrim maybe do not know of** _ **the return**_ **of Alduin (as indicated in the quests "the Fallen" and "Season Unending"), most of them should have heard of** _ **the name**_ **of Alduin. So I got it wrong before, and I'll change the last chapter a bit, but nothing major. And thanks whoever you are for pointing it out.**

* * *

 **Cidhna Mine, Markarth City**

King got arrested.

Currently, he was walking into the darkness belonging to the depth of Cidhna Mine, a silver mine served as the prison of the Reach, a place where the prisoners spent days and nights digging ores for the Silver-Blood family.

Fear grasped King as he ambled forwards. Behind him, King could hear the metal door of the jail shut with a heavy clank. King felt the guard's warning a moment ago still resounded in the cavernous space, yet he somehow failed to register anything the orc jailer said, being too shaky.

King cursed his luck inwardly once more, wishing that he would survive. Defenseless as he was, death had always been a looming threat, especially in a place like this.

Moreover, King had absolutely no idea why he was apprehended in the first place, except for it involved a certain group of corrupted guards.

How in oblivion could he get himself out of this mess? King did not suppose Saitama would be able to find him here… Was this some kind of karma from his past lies?

Briefly, King considered staying close to the entrance instead of delving deeper into the mine, but this option was quickly vetoed when he saw the guard who sent him inside was staring at him harshly across the iron barred door. Taking a few quick steps, King hurried down the wooden scaffolding he was on and into the hollow cavern.

Immediately down the ramp, King could see a man sitting by a bonfire and a large frightening orc standing next to a metal door as if securing something.

 _Crap. What now?_ Missing the whole dialogue from the jailer, King was not sure what he was supposed to do in a jail, not that he had served time before…

It was at this moment the man near the fire spoke up.

"What are you in for, new blood?" The man turned his head towards King's direction.

King felt somewhat lucky that it was this man who was talking, not the scary orc. But still, King wondered how he should answer that question. Should he tell the truth that he was innocent, or pretending he was someone threatening, so no one would take advantage of him? Maybe something as vague as possible?

"I am here…" King paused shortly to gather his thought. "Because of a mistake that is not mine."

A mistake of the guards misrecognizing King as someone else.

"Hmm..." The man scrutinized King with care, and his gaze fell upon the scars on King's face. "Don't want to talk about it? I bet it's something nasty."

"Very." King did consider the group of corrupted guards very much nasty.

"Violent one, huh? Best keep that to yourself, new blood. Others find out, they'll consider that a challenge." The man clearly was not on the same page with King. "My advice? Serve your time at the pickaxe and get out. You don't want to end up getting a shiv in the guts over a bottle of Skooma."

Hearing the man's warning, King decided playing tough was probably not a good idea here. So he probably should avoid unnecessary attention and not reveal his identity as the _Dragonborn_ just in case. Fortunately, judging from the action of the guards of Markarth King had met earlier, it was unlikely someone here in the prison would recognize him.

Then a voice came from his left.

"BY TALOS! Is that the Dragonborn!?"

King cringed.

So there went the plan of keep a low profile.

King's mind went blank.

* * *

 **The abandoned house, Markarth City**

Saitama was currently sleeping soundly on a bed in the house.

The reason why Saitama had entered the building was simple – he was running out of money again and did not want to waste any on ranting a room in a tavern. Then he remembered this place in the city he could settle in freely, since the house was apparently abandoned. What Saitama did not know was he incidentally missed King for not staying in the Silver-Blood Inn.

And instead of getting involved in a chaotic plight about the conspiracy of the Forsworn and the Silver-Bloods like King, Saitama was having a good rest even though he was the one caused the plight without noting it.

Well, _Saitama had been having a good sleep_ until he was hit by a floating bowl and awakened by someone yelling.

He almost forgot this place was haunted, or something like that.

Geez, couldn't the _ghost_ just stay silent for a night and let him rest?

Getting off the warm bed, Saitama figured he would search for the source of the annoying noise, so he could shut it up.

* * *

 **Cidhna Mine**

"BY TALOS! Is that the Dragonborn!?"

Was his eyes deceiving him? Eltrys could not believe what he just saw. It was the first glimmer of hope he grasped in this terrible day.

Just half a day ago, Eltrys met the bald man who had him wait futilely at the Shrine of Talos for a month, and Eltrys lost his temper, completely forgetting how sensitive the topic regarding Forsworn was. Not too long after him screaming loudly about murders and Forsworn in the Warrens, Eltrys was cornered by three guards and brought to jail for being an _accessory to murder_. Framed, of course.

This had been the worst day in Eltrys' life, but now that the Dragonborn was here…

Hold on, why would the Dragonborn be here? This man _was_ the Dragonborn, was he not?

Feeling giddy-headed, Eltrys took a few deep breaths to calm himself and then re-examined the man.

During the past few months, before completely giving up investigating the murders around Markarth, Eltrys had been keen on probing and collecting all sorts of information, that was, in an inconspicuous and careful manner. Although, also due to his discreetness, Eltrys had not obtained much on the murders, he did gather many unrelated news, the news on the Dragonborn included. And this was the moment where Eltrys' intelligence on the Dragonborn could be put to use.

It did not take long before Eltrys realized the physical appearance of the man matched perfectly to what he had learned about the High King. Furthermore, the echoing sound of the King Engine, which was on for some unknown reason, reaffirmed Eltrys' conjecture.

It was indeed the _Dragonborn_.

But how was it possible that the Dragonborn was arrested and brought into jail? Eltrys wanted to ask, yet he swallowed his question when noticing the Dragonborn had turned to face him. Meeting the glowering blue eyes of the man, Eltrys felt his own blood ran cold.

Eltrys was now certain this man was definitely powerful.

So there was simply one explanation for him being here – he was willing to.

Then Eltrys remembered overhearing the previous conversation between the Dragonborn and another prisoner, and everything became clear.

The Dragonborn said he was here due to _others' mistake_ and it was _something nasty_. This must mean King did not came to this hellhole for his own crime, but for ending someone else's.

And the King Engine… Eltrys was not quite positive why it was activated. Perhaps it was because the Dragonborn felt insulted by the other prisoner? In that case, Eltrys had to be careful with his words.

"High King, please forgive my intrusion." Eltrys lowered his head, not daring to make contact with the Dragonborn's glare again. "If I may ask. Are you here to look into the murders and crimes in Markarth?"

There was no response. Only the thunderous humming of the King Engine was floating in this vacant space.

No, other than that, there was the sound of footsteps. A lot of footsteps.

Eltrys' cry out about _the Dragonborn_ had drawn almost everyone in the Cidhna Mine into this chamber. The place was immediately crowded with various kinds of prisoners, some intimidating, some sleazy, some pitiful, but all were setting their gaze upon the Dragonborn, who showed no sign of movement.

No sign of _wavering_.

There was unintelligible mutters and whispers among the spectators, and Eltrys knew why. Most of the inmates here were arrested a long time ago, and might not comprehend much about the Dragonborn or the new High King. Specifically, they _knew of_ the Dragonborn while not actually _knew_ him. Currently, they seemed to be discussing among themselves whether this was indeed the Dragonborn.

The crowd fell quiet again when the iron door behind menacing orc swung open, and an elder with lengthy gray hair and beard stalked out.

"What's going on, Madanach?" Someone in the crowd inquired.

It took Eltrys a few seconds to recall that name. Madanach, the King of Rags, was also in this jail? Just how many important people were here?

* * *

 **The abandoned house**

Saitama had shuffled around all quarters of the house, but was unable to locate the origin of that annoying voice. A voice claiming to be from Molag Bal, the lord of _diminution_ or something. So why wasn't the guy's voice _diminished_?

And there were the items and furniture floating in the air, which occasionally hit Saitama. Of course, there was no real harm done, but they irritated him to no end.

What was more, while Saitama could not quite remember what Genos once said about this haunted house and who exactly was haunting it, he did remember it was not someone benevolent. Yet another reason to get rid of this _ghost_.

The problem was Saitama had already turned almost the whole place upside down but the _ghost_ was still nowhere to be seen. Now standing in the underground tunnel connected to the basement, Saitama pondered. Maybe he should get more creative on this…

* * *

 **Cidhna Mine**

Madanach walked out of his personal chamber in the mine and, for the first time in his life, faced the High King of Skyrim person-to-person.

Over the years, Madanach was able to coordinate the operations of the Forsworn in jail for one reason – he was always well informed of the news from the outside world. The news related to the Dragonborn naturally did not escape his notice. Therefore, Madanach instantly realized this man indeed fit the descriptions of the reputable Dragonborn.

Moreover, Madanach believed he could recognize a killer when he saw one. And he could tell with his instinct, this so-called Dragonborn was nothing less.

 _A dragon killer._

From what he had heard about the mighty deeds of the Dragonborn, Madanach was certain this man could effortlessly slaughter the entire city with one hand tied behind his back. This was the last person Madanach wished to make an enemy of, especially at this point, when their plan of jailbreak was about to begin…

Besides, there were many things required to be clarified in such a delicate situation.

"Dragonborn, the High King of Skyrim. The dragon slayer. The mountain leveler. The crusher of armies. The ender of wars…" Madanach exclaimed, directing at King. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

King did not answer, as his mind went blank and his body went rigid after being flanked by a bunch of criminals. But some other prisoner did. "He is investigating the recent murders."

Disturbed by the statement, Madanach held his elbows uneasily. If the Dragonborn had come so far for his investigation, he likely knew the mutual agreement between the Forsworn and the Silver-Blood family and the ensuing corruption in Markarth. Worse still, it was possible the Dragonborn abhorred the conspiracy in Markarth and decided to end it personally once and for all…

Was the Dragonborn here to kill them?

It was question that Madanach dare not to ask, in fear that the Dragonborn would commence a massacre straightaway after giving an affirmative answer. No, before that should happen, Madanach felt the need to avert the hostility from the Dragonborn.

But how? Bribery and intimidation would only aggravate the situation when dealing with such a _powerful and influential_ individual. The only option left was perhaps to appeal to his better nature, even though Madanach was not slightly confident it would work. As far as Madanach knew, the Nords in authority, including the Dragonborn, were mostly selfish and dishonest, and should be the sworn enemies of the Forsworn. But there was no better alternative for Madanach now.

Steeling himself, Madanach spoke to King once more. "Before you set out to do what you came here to do, I wish you would at least hear our side of the story. Our actions in the Reach did not start without reason. This was our land. We were here first. Then the Nords came and put chains on us. Forbid us from worshipping our gods. I want you to know how widespread the injustice of Markarth is. Braig, tell the High King why you are in the mine."

Braig, another old-looking man, who had been imprisoned here the longest besides Madanach, took the hint but did not speak immediately, as if reluctant to tell his story. The hesitation did not last long, however, before the old man settled his mind and began to talk.

"I had a daughter, once. She'd be 23 this year. Married to some hot-headed silver worker or maybe on her own learning the herb trade. The Nords didn't care who was and who wasn't involved in the Forsworn Uprising. I had spoken to Madanach once, that was enough." Braig's breath became uneven as he croaked out his grievous past, his eyes brimmed with regret and pain. "But my little Aethra didn't want to see her papa leave her. She pleaded to the Jarl to take her instead. And after they made me watch as her head rolled off the block, they threw me in here anyway, to dig up their silver."

Unfortunately, such a tragic story fell on deaf ears to King, who just recovered from the shock of being called out as _the Dragonborn_ and then surrounded by a group of criminals after Braig's monologue almost ended.

All King caught was the last part saying, "Every family in the Reach has a story like mine. There are no innocent onlookers in this struggle. Just the guilty, and the dead."

King had no idea what was the man talking about. But one thing was for sure, King did not want to wind up being _the dead_. Not knowing how to respond safely, King stayed quiet.

Madanach, on the other hand, took King's silence as contemplation, and resumed his persuasion. "Dragonborn, imagine hearing a story like that, over and over. Each time a different family. Each time a different injustice… Do you still think killing us will solve the problem?"

The elder's words made no sense to King, as he could not understand why these people thought he was here to _kill them_. So maybe that was the source of hostility? King figured he should pacified the current situation for starters. "I do not wish for a fight."

At that, Madanach was somewhat relieved, yet the reason behind the Dragonborn's arrival remained obscured. It was absurd that the Dragonborn simply came here for investigation, since there were much simpler method than posing as a prisoner. Madanach started to ruminate over the different possibilities.

Unsettled by the unresponsiveness of the old man, King worried his intent against violence did not get through and added, "I prefer peace."

Hearing King's words, Madanach was reminded of the news of another event he had received, about the peace conference the Dragonborn once held in Skyrim… Perhaps the Dragonborn came to Cidhna Mine to hear the Forsworn's version of the story and to offer a chance of reconciliation if he deemed appropriate? Peace, freedom and the right to follow their own traditions… Were those not what the Forsworn were struggling for throughout their history? Were those not what this High King was capable of giving back to them? Madanach had a feeling that if he were to ask for those at this moment, the Dragonborn would approve.

 _If only things were that simple._

Things were _never_ that simple.

The protest rose from Braig before all else.

"Peace? Just like that?" Braig sneered at the Dragonborn. "How about those who died by the hand of the Nords? How about the suffering we went through? How about the oppression imposed on our people? Do you expect us just forgive and forget? No, we demand vengeance. We will not plead with you, a Nord, to gain our freedom. We will take back what we own by ourselves even if it would cost our lives."

Many concurred, clamoring.

The enmity. The anger. The history stained by the blood of both the Nords and the Reachmen…

They were already too far down the path of hatred to turn back. Both sides had already paid too much and lost too much to desert their course. If they gave up now, all their past misery would be for nothing.

The turmoil grew greater.

Seeing red, the group of Forsworn _almost_ forgot their fear towards the Dragonborn. Almost… Nonetheless, barking and hollering was all they did, as no one mustered enough courage to start the fight against the Dragonborn – a fight they knew they could not win.

In the meanwhile, King was panic-stricken by the setting before him, and nearly pissed himself.

Basically, this was a ridiculous scenario where everyone in the mine was highly scared for one reason or another, inclusive of Madanach.

Madanach did not want to push the Dragonborn too hard and thus bring destruction upon themselves.

"Listen, everyone." Madanach announced aloud, while raising his arms, gesturing his people to settle down. "The Dragonborn has stated the purpose of his visit. Now it's time for us to have a rational discussion on our decision… In private, if you don't mind, Dragonborn?"

It took a few seconds for King to get the notion that these prisoners wished him to leave them alone. That was actually the best news King had ever had since the encounter with the corrupted guards.

"Of course!" King tried to appear as composed as he could managed, and then fled from the scene at top speed, rushing headlong into an empty tunnel in the cave.

Madanach watched the Dragonborn disappearing from his line of sight, musing. This Dragonborn was definitely unlike any Nord Madanach had ever seen. More powerful, and more… considerate? Willing to go through so much trouble to talk to a group of Forsworn in person and negotiating with them with such a generous manner...

The Dragonborn was indeed a kind man, well-deserved of the title of the High King.

* * *

 **AN: Recently, a family member of mine was in a car accident and hospitalized. While it is not** _ **very**_ **serious, it will take a while for him to recover and my schedule is a little messed up because of the things came up afterwards. Anyway, I will keep this story going, but don't be surprised if there are some delays every now and then...**

 **Thank you guys for reading.**


	56. §3: A Way Out

**AN: Thank you guys for your concern, and no worries since my family member is recovering well. However, it might take a while for him to heal completely, with broken bones and such.**

 **Now, about last chapter. Saitama is indeed at the haunted house where he and Genos first met (in chapter 7 I think), and as you might notice, the** _ **ghost**_ **is not a ghost at all… (And** _ **not**_ **someone benevolent, as I wrote.) Poor Eltrys did not die for some reason, which I haven't found a right place to explain.**

 **Finally, thank you all for your reviews and reading, and I do mean all of you.**

* * *

 **Cidhna Mine**

In an inconspicuous corner of the cave, far away from the other prisoners, King leaned against the cave wall, over-ventilating. He had thought he was going to die back there.

Several minutes passed before King managed to regain his footing, no longer feeling he was going to faint.

Here and now, King finally had some personal time to examine what exactly he knew about his current quandary.

First, he was thrown into jail because a group of corrupted guards thought he was nosing around and meddling with their _business_. As to what kind of business, King failed to recall anything about it. He wished he could have commit some clues to memory when listening to the guards, but he had been so very nervous…

Second, the prisoners in the mine thought King was here to kill them. Oh, and they hated Nords – probably another racial issue in Skyrim.

Third, the group of prisoners were going to discuss… uh… something.

And that was it. That was all King could gather about his current crisis.

Trying to put things into perspective, King failed miserably.

Completely in the dark, both metaphorically and literally, King felt he had unknowingly gotten involved into a conspiracy brewing in this glooming cave but somehow remained unknowing to what the conspiracy was.

How on Nirn would he get out of this dilemma? King grabbed his head in distress. There was no way he would go back to the other prisoners to listen to their result of discussion, since he would mostly definitely break down if he were to do that…

King's contemplation was intermitted when he suddenly heard a rustling sound near him, behind the soil wall of the mine.

What was that?

King took a few steps away from the source of the sound as his mind filled with all sorts of horrifying stories happened in dark dungeons in Tamriel. Briefly, King considered running away to the others or calling for help, but immediately renounced that idea when he thought of the threatening looks of those prisoners. No, he would rather try his luck staying here..., right?

Then the wall exploded.

The _explosion_ is fairly small in scale, causing only a chunk of earth flying, missing King by a narrow margin. Other than that, it simply blew a cloud of dirt, veiling King's already obscured line of sight.

Through the misty air, a dull shimmer was barely visible, seeming to be from reflection of some kind.

Facing an unknown once more, King swallowed hard and braced himself.

A familiar voice came as the dust settled.

"King? Um… What are you doing underground?"

Blinking rapidly vision, King finally recognized where the shimmer came from. It was from the reflective surface of a baldhead…

"… Mr. Saitama?"

* * *

Saitama's plan to find the _ghost_ in the abandoned house had been elementary. Since he could not find it everywhere in the house and the voice of the ghost seemed to come from somewhere in the basement, Saitama decided to dig around in the cellar in an unrhetorical way. That was, Saitama had dug several holes in the basement in hope to uncover the source of the bothersome sound.

One of such holes, dredged by Saitama in his frustration and impatience, was a _little_ too deep. Well, it was actually a lot too deep, as it could hardly be called a hole, but rather a tunnel.

A tunnel that passed through half of the city subterrestrial, excavated in a short period of time by Saitama, who sort of lost his direction during the process.

A tunnel that connected the haunted house with Cidhna Mine…

When Saitama finally broke through to the other side from the tunnel, he had already realized he dug too far. Still, it was a pleasant surprise to find King in front of him and the annoying voice of the _ghost_ gone.

"King? Um… What are you doing underground?" Saitama looked at the man he had searched everywhere for. So… this was where he supposed to meet King? Saitama wondered why King thought it was a good idea to meet at a place so difficult to find. An underground chamber, really?

King was surprised as well, if not more. "Mr. Saitama?"

Dusting off his hands, Saitama decided he did not care _why_ King pick here as their rendezvous. "Next time, we should really meet at some place easier to find."

"What?" King, however, did not follow Saitama's logic, and was still gawking at the other's unexpected presence.

"Right, you said on the letter you have something on Alduin…" Saitama glanced around the cavern they were currently in before continuing. "But we can talk about that tomorrow. It's much quieter here, so I'll go get my bed roll."

With a yawn, Saitama strode towards the _tunnel_.

"Wait." King was not sure what was going on at all with Saitama. "You are going to… uh… sleep here? Right here?"

"I'm tired." Saitama turned his head. "That ghost keep on disrupting my sleep. I'll deal with him tomorrow also."

King felt he was missing a lot of things here, like what the _ghost_ was and why Saitama came here, but chose to state the more important matter. "You can't sleep here."

"Um… Not even just for one night?"

"No, no. The other prisoners could be coming here any moment."

"Prisoners…" Saitama stared at King blankly. "Uh… What is this place anyway?"

"It's a prison…" King thought that was the obvious answer.

Saitama narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing in a prison? Did you kill a chicken or something?"

"No. I think some corrupt guard mistook me for someone else."

"So… You are going to file an appeal or what? Maybe find someone high up to… Wait, aren't you the High King?"

King nodded before suggesting. "Maybe… I can follow you and leave through the tunnel you came?"

"Oh… uh… okay?" Not that Saitama wanted to sleep in a jail, or he could come up with any idea to redress the corruption of the officials. The latter was more of the responsibility belonging to someone like _the High King_ , when the man was out of prison of course.

Saitama and King thus retreated from Cidhna Mine towards the abandoned house at once. During their departure, Saitama did remember to collapse the tunnel behind them, so they would not be responsible for a major prison break.

Unbeknownst to Saitama and King, a prison break was actually about to happen either way.

* * *

 **The Treasury House, Markarth City**

Thonar Silver-Blood had learned of a imminently jailbreak from his informers, saying the Forsworn led by Madanach were about to escape Cidhna Mine through a secret tunnel the prisoners had been digging for a long time.

However, this was not the main concern of Thonar, comparing to another extremely severe issue.

Holding a piece of crumpled paper wetted by his own sweat, Thonar exhaled heavily as he slumped down to his seat.

He just recognized the signature on the paper. It was without a doubt a letter from the High King. This meant the guards Thonar had brought off had erroneously arrested the High King and framed him for murder…

Such a mistake could ruin the Silver-Blood family overnight.

Shortly, Thonar pondered why the guards did not identify the Dragonborn beforehand. Were they that ignorant of the significant affairs around Skyrim? Then it occurred to Thonar that perhaps the guards did not make out the High King because the man _did not want them to_.

That was more than likely.

Yes… The Dragonborn was looking into the conspiracy in Markarth for some reason, and wished to remain anonymous during the investigation. As far as Thonar knew, the man could be using some illusion magic to fool other people in order to conceal his identity. _That_ would explain the guards' behavior. Moreover, these events were probably all set up by the Dragonborn to test the water in Markarth, and they just provided the man with a concrete evidence of guilt by apprehending him…

If the Dragonborn's accomplice had not drop the letter by accident, Thonar would never find out the man was here!

This was a complete disaster.

After staying silent on the chair for several minutes, Thonar slapped his hand onto the table and stood up.

No. He would not sit around and doing nothing, accepting the impending doom. He was going to gather all the manpower he could get – guards, workers, mercenaries – as long as they could come in a short notice. Thonar was willing to pay them well for his own protection and for launching a preemptive strike.

They were going to _greet_ the Dragonborn before the man came to them.

And Thonar had a hunch that the High King would exit the prison together with other prisoners through the secret tunnel the prisoners constructed.

* * *

King was advancing slowly in the tunnel Saitama dug, as the temporary passage was rather narrow and uneven. Saitama was quite a distance ahead of King, moving faster than his company did. However, the interval between the two was not long enough to hinder their conversation.

"In the haunted house… What kind of ghost are you talking about?" King asked.

"How should I know?" Saitama shrugged. "I've never seen him."

"Is the ghost dangerous?" King's hand clutched tighter at the handle of a lantern he _borrowed_ from the prison.

"Probably not. The guy just has the ability to make some items float around and yell loudly."

"I see…" King did not felt reassured by Saitama's response, since the definition of _dangerous_ could be much different for King and Saitama…

But there was no going back now. Not that King would ever wanted to get back to that hellhole again.

Finally, at the end of the exhaustive journey – at least in King's point of view, dim lightings could be seen from the far side of the tunnel.

"We're almost there." Saitama comment as he picked up his speed, and exited the tunnel not long afterwards.

King quickened his pace and followed out as well.

What King saw was discomforting.

They were in yet another cave, surrounded by soil walls. Before them, a strange looking altar rested in an eerie silence. A rusted mace hovered upon the altar, stale, whereas a metal cage stood adjacent. The cage's bars were jugged, protruding from its stand like spears, thick and coated in blood.

The scene would be more frightening if it were not for the fact that half of the cage bars were wrung and broken, and there were at least a dozen of holes scattered around the floor and walls.

Then King heard the authoritative yet bloodcurdling voice calling.

" _ **Foolish mortals, you think you can evoke the wrath of Molag Bal without consequences?"**_

Molag Bal… as in the Daedric Prince Molag Bal!?

"Ouch!" Startled, King froze and dropped the lantern to his foot, nearly setting his shoe on fire.

Mortals were nothing comparing to those godly beings when it came to power and influence. To King's understanding, the capability of a Daedric Lord was simply beyond imagination, and Molag Bal was one of the worst of them in terms of his methods.

However, Saitama ignored the voice of the Daedroth completely, and turned towards King instead. "See? I told you the ghost is talkative."

King stuttered. "M-molag Bal is not a ghost. He's… a Daedric Prince."

"Uh right." Saitama tapped his palm with his fist. "Now I remember. The prince of diminution."

"I think it's _domination_ , not diminution…" King, as usual, started to look for a way to escape, positioning himself in a manner that the most parts of his body were shielded from the altar by Saitama.

When Saitama and King conversed, the voice of the Daedric Prince continued to resound in the enclosed space.

" _ **You dare desecrate my shrine. Soon, you will suffer for what you did!"**_

"Don't worry." Saitama remained unaffected and told King, "The guy is all talk but no action."

King somehow doubted Saitama's statement, so he took a few steps towards the pathway where he suspected to lead out, but stopped dead when a bowl soared through the air and crashed into a wall before him. That reminded King of something Saitama said in the tunnel about _floating items_ in the house. Considering he had no intention to be fatally crushed by a furniture, King decided, instead of fleeing away blindly, he should stay and attempt to figure out how to resolve the situation. After all, King felt much safer sticking close to Saitama under current circumstance.

Saitama frowned, noticing King's odd acts of running away and then turning back. "Hey, King. What are you doing? You found a way to shut this guy up?"

"I am not sure… Maybe we can find out what the Daedroth is so angry about first…" King did his best to remain composed while trying to come up with something. "The Daedric Prince said you desecrated his shrine." King casted his gaze towards the mangled cage, and pointed his finger at it. "You broke that, Mr. Saitama?"

Saitama looked hard and carefully at the cage and altar for several seconds, before asking. "So those ugly metal blocks are the shrine?"

"… Yes, I think so?" King thought that should be obvious.

"Hmm… So you think the Daedric guy will stop talking about his shrine if there is no shrine anymore?"

Before King comprehended that sentence enough to give a proper response, Saitama threw out his fist.

And there ended the existence of the shrine, along with the existence of the entire basement. At the same time, many residents in Markarth were awakened by a severe _earthquake_. The voice of the Daedric Prince receded as well, as even Molag Bal himself felt the punch in another realm.

The haunted house was haunted no more from this moment on.

King was not sure how he got up from the collapsing basement in a haze, perhaps with the help from Saitama. When King managed to recover from his shock partially, he saw Saitama walking away.

"Finally, the annoying guy shut up!" Saitama said as he climbed into bed. "I am going to get some sleep."

Standing speechless, King was at a loss about what had just happened with Saitama and the Daedric Prince.

All he knew was he seriously needed some fresh air right now.

* * *

 **AN: Here is something I am kinda conflicted about, when writing how King addresses Saitama.**

 **One way to write it is simply letting King call Saitama… uh well… Saitama. While this sounds natural, it is not quite true to the original text.**

 **The other way is to write "Mr. Saitama" instead of only "Saitama", since I believe the Japanese text should be "Saitama-shi", or "-si" if you prefer. This is more of a word-to-word translation, and can sound weird in occasions, but it can be explained away along the context of King being unsure how to address Saitama properly after stealing his credits.**

 **Or maybe I should just use "Saitama-shi"? Well, that's kinda weird too, and I'll have to find some explanation in story for that if I take it.**

 **Even though this probably won't affect the story in a significant way, I do want to settle it down. So what do you think?**


	57. §3: Path to Freedom

**AN: Not really in the mood of writing after my grandmother passed away last month, but I am back now. (What's with all the awful things happening around lately? Oh well, whatever.)**

* * *

The group of prisoners in Cidhna Mine had not reached a consensus in their discussion, except for the beliefs that the Dragonborn had come to them with good intention and they did not stand a chance fighting against the man. In other words, they had not decided whether to accept the Dragonborn's offer.

Then the debate ended prematurely when they discovered the Dragonborn had vanished _without a trace_. All thanked to the fact Saitama had destroyed the tunnel as he and King left.

Regarding to the Dragonborn's disappearance, the prisoners speculated it had something to do with the earthquake earlier, which they believed was likely caused by some magic or Shout.

They also concluded they should conduct their plan of prison break immediately. The unexpected visit from the Dragonborn had already perturbed their plot, and they did not wish to see any other unforeseen event occurred if they were to delay it more.

Therefore, the prisoners of Cidhna Mine followed the direction of Madanach and filed into their previously dug tunnel, which winded through an ancient Dwemer ruins towards their freedom. After striking down a couple of frostbite spiders and some dwarven constructs in the ruins, the group exited the tunnel into the open air.

It was at this instant that they were met with a great hindrance.

Under the night sky of Markarth City, a troop of guards and mercenary _thrice_ their number blocked their pathway. Worse still, the troop was standing at a choke point where the prisoners must pass through in order to get to the city gate and thereafter the wilderness.

The troop was led by none other than _Thonar Silver-Blood_.

Now stuck in a cleft of wood, the newly escaped prisoners were unnerved. Before them was a fight they could not win; behind them was the deprivation of their right and dignity. Perhaps the only slim chance for them was to carve a bloody path through the troop in front and flee, but it was quite possibly that they would all die trying. Things were looking bad to them.

Things were not looking too good to Thonar either.

Although his gang had the upper hand over the prisoners and could certainly annihilate these opponents, it was the one Thonar had not seen that worried him most.

The High King was not among the prisoners.

Thonar considered the Dragonborn a much bigger threat than anyone else. And thus the man had to be eliminated, or he would definitely be the downfall of the Silver-Blood family.

"Where did the Dragonborn go?" Thonar threw out the question immediately.

While most people present – both the Forsworn and the men of Thonar – were well- aware of the appearance of the Dragonborn in Markarth, the title still has a dramatic effect on the crowd. When Thonar's question ended, everyone fell silent and it was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Or maybe it was just because no one knew the answer to Thonar's question…

Either way, tension was brewing.

Finally, Madanach broke the silence. "We don't owe you any answer, Thonar. No… You are the one who have much to answer for."

"If that is all you're going to say," Thonar gritted his teeth. "We will search for the High King _after_ killing you all."

Spells were conjured and blades were drawn, and both parties closed their distance and clashed into a battle. The yelling and crying, the clanging and rattling pierced the calmness of the night.

Yet before the first battler fell, one of the Forsworn shouted something unexpected.

"The Dragonborn is _right there_!" A prisoner gesturing somewhere behind his enemies.

While most of Thonar's men did not look back, thinking it was some sort of trick, those who managed to do so widened their eyes.

They saw the profile of a tall blond man, whose left eye was covered by three elongated scars running the length of half of his face.

The man stopped walking around the time the prisoner called out, and was currently standing right behind the group of Thonar.

"He's telling the truth," A mercenary who had looked back said with a trembling voice. "It's the Dragonborn."

With that sentence dropped, the flame of war died out among the warriors, as all of them turned their attention towards the new arriver and froze.

Thonar turned around as well, and then he instantly recognized the man was High King of Skyrim without a doubt. For a second, Thonar's mind went blank, but he recovered shortly, remembering his purpose here. He and his troop was here to make sure the Dragonborn would not become a major concern for the Silver-Bloods family.

 _Attack! Kill the Dragonborn!_ Thonar was about to give the command, when the High King turned his gaze towards him.

Facing the glare of the Dragonborn, Thonar opened his mouth, but no word ever came out for he felt his breath was taken away. The unshakable stature of the man was unquestionably belonged to the strong, whereas the demeanor of the man showed a sense of majesty and superiority. Thonar concluded no other could be more worthy of the title of the King.

There was an intangible aura around the man, screaming he was dangerous. The night seemed to get colder, and Thonar shivered slightly. They could not possibly defeat this man… What was he thinking? Those rumors about the man's mighty deeds all had to be true. Although the air was chilly, Thonar felt he could see burning fire in the Dragonborn's eyes.

Well, he _felt_ he could, because it was really dark at this time, and it was already hard enough for them to identify the Dragonborn, let alone seeing the man's eyes clearly.

Since Thonar _felt_ grave danger was emitting from the High King, his gesture betrayed his fear. The same went for all other spectators at the scene.

Thonar's underlings, for one, slowly gave way to the Dragonborn.

However, the Dragonborn did not take the path they made towards the group of prisoners. Rather, the man stared at the prisoners for a few more seconds before walking away in a steady pace.

The crowd looked at each other, puzzled, failing to comprehend the meaning behind the Dragonborn's action.

Then an idea flashed through Madanach's mind.

"Let's go." Madanach said to the group of Forsworn. "The Dragonborn want us to follow him."

Complying Madanach's order, the prisoners trailed after the Dragonborn carefully, and moved through the way Thonar's men made for the Dragonborn.

Ceased by dread, Thonar and his lackeys made no attempt to stop them. None of them has the courage to defy the will of the Dragonborn after seeing the man in person.

...

It was an unusual sight that a group of prisoners in rags peacefully marched through the city streets unhindered, yet such a scene was acted out this night. Under the lead of the Dragonborn, nothing was impossible.

As the rank paraded with utter silence in an almost solemn manner, Thonar became distressed.

After realizing taking on the High King was an extremely bad idea, Thonar's fight-or-flight instinct tipped to the other end, and he sensed the urgency to make his escape.

The Dragonborn was apparently against him and his family. It did not matter whether it was because the man truly despised the injustice in Markarth, or it was due to the man's ambition to take over their silver mining business. Either way, one thing was for sure to Thonar – the Silver-Blood family was in a life-and-death crisis. Moreover, they had little time to react, as the only reason the Dragonborn had not eradicated them was perhaps the man wanted to do so in broad daylight to set an example.

Thonar knew if they wished to have even a slight likelihood to survive this critical situation, they would have to completely evacuate from Skyrim, or maybe the territory of the entire Empire. Weighing his options, Thonar decided he would return to his house immediately, gather all the members of his family, pack every valuables they could acquire offhand, and leave the city before dawn.

With his mind made up, Thonar departed from the site in hurriedness and desperation, leaving the troop he had assembled standing around, confused and shepherdless.

* * *

Indeed, Thonar and his underlings were absolutely horrified at the moment, yet the most horrified soul was, funny enough, the source of the horror – the _great High King_ himself.

King regretted his decision of trying to check out the commotion in the city. He was originally taking a walk on the streets for some fresh air. When some odd noises were heard, King had thought merely take a peek would not hurt much.

Then he ended up being followed by a bunch of prisoners he just eluded a while ago.

Curse his luck.

Although King really wanted to send his _followers_ away by telling them he did not signal them to come along, he was lack of the courage to face those ferocious criminal, not to mention trying to persuade them. Without any good option, King only came up with the idea of asking Saitama for help, so he advanced towards the direction of the abandoned house, leading a rank of unwanted stalkers.

But when the parade was about to pass by the city gate, King halted abruptly, remembering he in fact did not wish to go back to the deserted house at all, since that place was haunted by a freaking Daedric Prince.

What to do now?

To King's surprise, his followers chose this juncture to stop following him.

The prisoners thanked King somewhat sincerely for helping them to escape to the gate – an act that was not King's intention at all; and they stated they would consider King's offer – an offer that King had no idea what it was. Afterwards, the prisoners exited the city and disappeared in the darkness of the wilderness.

 _What?_ The only thought King had was _what just happened_?

After standing confusedly in the middle of street for a long while, King gave up thinking about the odd behaviors of those prisoners, and decided to go.

But to where? Wandering in the city might cause another undesirable encounter. Going back to the haunted house was definitely a bad idea. Returning to the tavern did not seem so good after the incident with the corrupted guard…

At this moment, King really got the feeling that he had no place to go in this senseless world…

Standing alone on the empty street in this stone-cold city, King was clueless and directionless. The moisture and the chill, which had been condensing since sunset, along with the horrid events he had experienced this day – all of them were sending shivers down King's spine.

He was alone and freezing. And also exhausted.

As King lamented and indulged in his self-pity, he gradually recalled something important. Extremely important for him. He had left his luggage and the _limited edition_ comics, which he had ordered from another province weeks ago and only received earlier this day, in the tavern room!

Immediately, King went back to Silver-Blood Inn, and since he was already there, he figured he might as well spend the rest of the night in the inn and went to his rented bed.

That completed resolved King's earlier dilemma.

Unfortunately, by the time King settled down, it was nearly at daybreak.

The next day, early in the morning, drowsy and tired, King was pulled out of his warm bed by none other than Saitama, who miraculously managed to locate King this time – much to King's dismay. Then the pair – one infamous for his negligence of his surroundings and the other hardly awake – left the city in pursuit of the World Eater.

Therefore, both of them did not take notice of the turmoil in Markarth, where all the residents were talking about the prison break last night and, of course, the short presence of the _Dragonborn_.

* * *

 **Understone Keep, Markarth City**

Eltrys never thought he would one day stood in front the jarl and the nobles of Markarth, recounting a groundbreaking event.

The event of the jailbreak of Cidhna Mine and the involvement of the Dragonborn.

Eltrys was invited here simply because he was the only person who both had witnessed the occurrence first handedly and was still staying in the city – the Forsworns all skipped town, the Silver-Blood fled in fear of retaliation, and the Dragonborn departed in the early morning as well. That left Eltrys, who had been forgotten by all others in their escape, to tell the story.

And a grand and embellished story he told.

The story started with how Eltrys himself was thrown into jail because some corrupted guards were finding easy scapegoat to prove their efficiency in case handling. Then the story went to the grandeur entrance of King in the Cidhna Mine, and how the man won respectfulness of every prisoner with his peace offer. Finally, the story came to its climax when Eltrys recollected the Dragonborn's mysterious disappearance from the cave, only to reemergence in the time of their need to dispel the vile Silver-Blood family, whose plan was to secretly overthrow the authority in Skyrim.

Well, the story was not exactly correct in _more than_ several points, but the audiences took it seriously nonetheless.

On an ending note, Eltrys concluded his recapping by stating his remark on the Dragonborn. "… The man is formidable and honorable, yet merciful and generous. He was doubtlessly here to free the Reach from the long-lasting bloodshed and struggle. He will bring peace and prosperity. The Dragonborn is indeed the savior of Skyrim!"

When the Eltrys' last sentence finished, he was expecting to receive some applause, but none was given, for the chamber was filled with an uneasy atmosphere as these influential people in Markarth were contemplating carefully how they should cope with this complicated situation.

This was going to be a _very long_ day for them.

* * *

 **AN: About how King addresses Saitama in this fic, I am thinking it will be a shift between "Mr. Saitama" and simply "Saitama", depending on the state of mind King is in.**

 **And hopefully, the next chapter will come out sooner.**


	58. §3: Off the Wall

**AN: To the reviewer who has disabled the private messaging feature, Saitama knew where the shrine of Molag Bal is. He just did not know it is a shrine. It's not like random text will show up in the thin air and tell him the name of the thing he is looking at, right?**

* * *

Saitama and King were traveling away from Markarth in search of a mean to defeat Aduin, who had in fact already been vanquished by Saitama a while ago. Yet such an important matter completely was left unregistered by most people around Skyrim, including the aforementioned two _heroes_.

"So... where are we going?" Saitama asked King, who was supposed to know where to find the so-called Alduin's Wall, on which allegedly had vital information written. It was beyond Saitama that what the World Eater had to do with a _wall_. "King? Hey, did you hear me?"

"Uh-huh… huh? What?" King belatedly recovered from his state of spacing out – a result of his lack of sleep.

"I said… where are we going?" Saitama walked on by King's side in a steady pace.

King, however, stopped abruptly. "Wait. Aren't you leading the way?"

"Nope, I thought you are leading the way?" Saitama halted his steps as well, frowning slightly. "I don't even know our destination."

"Hold on, if you are following me and I am also following you…" King smacked his forehead. "Does it mean we were wandering around aimlessly for the past hour?"

Staring at King deadpan, Saitama replied. "I guess so. But you are the one who know where Alduin's wall is…"

"Crap…" King just realized how stupid they were, and he blamed it on his shortage of sleep last night. "I'll get the map. Where did I put it?"

Setting his backpack on the ground, King started to ransack it for the map containing the location of Sky Haven Temple, given by Esbern a couple of days ago.

Ten minutes passed as King turned his bag upside down searching for the map.

With no luck.

"Are you sure you brought the map with you?" Saitama commented.

"Not really…" King let out a sigh. "Maybe I left it in the inn when we departed this morning in a haste."

"So… We're going back to get it?" Saitama asked. "I got time anyway."

"Back to Markarth…" King immediately recalled all those unpleasant experiences in that city. "No, no, no. Definitely not. I don't know for sure whether the map is there anyway. Don't worry. I remember roughly where we are heading. It's a cave near a Forsworn camp not too far from some river. East of Markarth. The name of the cavern is… umm… Karthspire, right, _Karthspire_."

"Oh, okay." Saitama shrugged.

"Yeah, let's get going."

King picked up his belongings and strode towards the correct direction, or the direction that he _thought_ to be correct, while Saitama stalked behind.

* * *

 **Red Eagle Redoubt** **(** _ **Not**_ **the Karthspire)**

Saitama and King arrived at the entrance of a cavern on the hillside, where two members of Forworn attacked the pair and got dispatched by Saitama in the blink of an eye.

"I think this is it." King was pretty confident this is the cave Esbern was talking about. It was not too far from a river, close to a Forsworn camp, and to the east of Markarth City. There couldn't be many caves that fit all those description, could it?

King closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to enter a dark cave and face the unknown inside. He had never delved into a dangerous dungeon before – at least he assumed the cave was dangerous.

When King finally felt ready for the challenge and snapped his eyes open once more, he noticed Saitama gone.

"S-Saitama?" King looked around and quickly concluded that Saitama probably have already entered the cave without him. Feeling unsafe without Saitama nearby, King rushed into the cave as well. "Wait! Wait for me!"

King did not ran far before he slowed himself down, remembering there could be traps in a dungeon. As King treaded forward carefully in the cavern, he noticed two Forsworn knocked out on the ground. Doubtlessly, a handiwork of Saitama. It was not until he climbed up a flight of stone stair did he see Saitama and some _conscious_ Forsworn. Without hesitation, King sprinted for cover behind a large boulder to watch the scene unfolded.

But the scene ended even before King managed to reach the boulder, when Saitama knocked all three enemies senseless. Dully, King noted the other man was indeed very fast and powerful.

There was no other Forsworn around the cave afterwards.

"King, what is this Alduin's Wall looks like?" Saitama stopped in the middle of the path, asking aloud. "Did you see it?"

"Esbern said it is inside the Sky Haven Temple. And there is a large stone head built on the wall outside the Temple. So we should look for that first."

"Well, didn't see anything like that…" Saitama scratched his head.

"Esbern also said it is at the end of the cave, so maybe we should move forward?"

Saitama had no better idea, and the pair moved forward as King suggested. But instead of the big carving King mentioned, they came before an iron door at the other side of the cave. Their luck failed them once more as the door led to open air again. Moreover, there was a large Forsworn camp outside, swarmed with _a lot of_ Forsworn members.

The two decided to advance further, since they apparently had not reached an _end_ of some kind.

And there went another _battle_ – if one could called it a battle, where King hided far behind while Saitama took out any foe coming into sight in a flash. Or rather, an _uphill battle_ , literally, as Saitama and King were heading up a slope on the hill throughout the battle…

Probably the only kind of uphill battle Saitama would ever get.

The _battle_ ended with no Forsworn awake in the camp.

"I still don't see any large head sculpture." Saitama stood in front the last tent in the encampment, looking at King queryingly. "Are you sure this is the place?"

"I am not quite sure…" King crossed his arm, ruminating. "I mean it should be, since the description matches… Maybe I should check my bag again. See if the map is stashed somewhere that I overlooked."

King started to rummaging through his pack again, whereas Saitama, bored, picked up a random book lying on a random table and began to leaf through it.

The title of the book read _The Legend of Red Eagle_.

* * *

Red Eagle, or Faolan in the language of the Reach, was indeed a legend among the Forsworn Rebellion.

The story of Faolan dated by to the Eleventh Century of the First Era.

At that time, Faolan rose as warrior without peer and united the Reach to forge a new nation. However, the man's dream was short-lived, for his nation fell apart when the Imperial Legion came down on his people. With the set back, Faolan resorted to guerilla war and, later, traded his heart, his will, and his humanity to the Hagravens so he could become a spirit of vengeance. Yet the tide only turned momentarily, and the fate of Faolan and his men was sealed when the Legion marched on them with full force. It was said that Faolan alone slayed a thousand foes with his might, before finally falling. With his dying breath, Faolan swore an oath to come back with his blade and lead his people again when the Reach was free.

Now in the Fourth Era, Faolan had become a symbol ever since the Forsworn uprose. The man was, after all, a Reachman who had once driven out the Empire and established an independent kingdom ruled by the Reachmen. And even though not all Forsworn believed firmly that the Red Eagle would return, Faolan's oath was taken seriously by more than a few.

That was why a small group of believers was currently venturing into a tomb purportedly to be the resting place of the Red Eagle.

The leader of the group was a Reachman named Balving. Some in his tribe believed Balving might be the incarnation of the Red Eagle, partially because the meaning of the man's name – Fire Wing – was oddly parallel to the title Red Eagle. More importantly, the man was a fierce warrior among his tribe, brave and fervent, just like Faolan.

This expedition to the tomb of the Red Eagle was a trial for Balving and a chance to prove his identity.

However, the schedule of the mission was moved up when the breaking news from Markarth arrived. The news about the jailbreak of Madanach, the utter downfall of the Silver-Blood and the emergence of the Dragonborn was traveling fast, and this Forsworn tribe realized they had to react fast and ready themselves for the incoming changes and the possible opportunity and crisis that followed.

They hoped to find their solution in the catacomb, for if the Red Eagle had truly come back to lead them, they had faith that they could triumph over any obstacle.

Thus the group marched into the depth of the cave with their spirit high, and Balving held an ancient sword heedfully – a sword called the Red Eagle's fury. It was passed down within the tribe for generations, and was presumed to be the sword of Faolan himself.

It was also said to be the _key_ to the secret of the Red Eagle.

Balving realized what that meant after arriving at a larger chamber inside the catacomb. The place looked empty, and there was no path to proceed. The only thing worthy of note was an archaic altar standing ostentatiously in the middle of the cavern. Upon the altar, there was a slot, where the sword would fit in.

Without hesitation, Balving aligned his sword at the socket and pushed it in.

The ground shook while a camouflaged stone door before them gave ways to a secret tunnel.

The group paraded in, more cautious than before. Down sets of stairs towards the bottom of the catacomb, the Forsworn eventually reached an enormous hall, where a stone coffin lied in the far end.

Was that where the Red Eagle rested?

Balving and his followers stepped gravely forwards with bated breath.

Then, fear hit the group like a giant's club as the cover of the sarcophagus snapped open and a drauger in ancient armor and horned helmet rose.

Was this undead the Red Eagle?

There was no time for the group to think further, for more undeads were raised around them as well. The Forsworn members knew they had to decide whether to flee or fight immediately.

They chose the latter.

WRONG choice.

The group was obliterated in just a few minutes. Even Balving could not manage to escape his death. As he and his comrades fell, the last thought crossed Balving's mind was:

 _How in Oblivion did the Red Eagle become a drauger!?_

Well, that was likely just another mystery in Skyrim that would remain unanswered.

* * *

 **Rebel's Cairn** **(Balving's place of dying, but it is still** _ **not**_ **the Karthspire)**

"Hey King. You think this could Cat Spar?" Saitama asked, staring at the entrance of the cairn.

"I think what you're trying to say is Karthspire… It's not even close." King muttered before continuing. "Actually… Now, I am not so sure Sky Haven Temple is here, but I still can't find the map, so…"

So they were probably knocking a bunch of people out for absolutely no reason AND they might be trespassing? Saitama started to feel this was a bad idea. "Maybe we should leave before these barbarian-like guys call the guards or something."

King was quite sure the Forsworn would not _call the guards_ , but he agreed this might be a wild-goose chase. "Hmm… Perhaps we can check this one last cave before leaving?"

Since they had already gone this far, Saitama found no reason to oppose, and the two went on to check the cave.

To the two's disappointment, there was still no _large human head sculpture_ that indicated the Sky Haven Temple was there. Well, it was more like _"to Saitama's disappointment"_ , since King was busy being freaked out by unexpected drauger attacks and throwing up after seeing the fresh but dismantled bodies scattered about the cave. Or maybe King was just throwing up because of the weird meat that he did not know where Saitama obtained but ate anyway earlier this day. Probably it was because of both combining with King's lack of sleep.

Lucky for King, Saitama was around to save the day, and the toughest drauger, the undead form of the Red Eagle - well, not that the two would know that title - ended up flattened and stuck on the ceiling after being swatted across the chamber by Saitama.

Nothing of interest here, Saitama noted, _except_ for the large treasure chest sitting at the other side of the chamber. Whether it belonged to someone around here or not was beyond him.

Saitama looked around and saw no one else other than King – who was just about to finishing up vomiting at this moment – before fixating his gaze on the container again. It would not hurt to just take a look at what was inside the chest even if it was owned, right? It was after all a _treasure chest_ , unlocked also. Who wouldn't want to take a look at what was inside a treasure chest?

With that thought in mind, Saitama flipped open the lid of the chest.

There was something all right.

Saitama saw a couple of enchanted weapons and some jewelry lying in the bottom. But the thing that stood out the most was a large white spherical polyhedron resting above other contents in the container, and Saitama wondered if it was like some vosh ball that the Orcs used in their ballgames.

Basically nothing inside the chest seemed useful to Saitama.

Absentminded, Saitama reached for the white round object while wondering where had he heard of the vosh contest in the first place. Then, just as Saitama's fingertip made contact with the ball, a _really loud_ voice erupted out of nowhere and resounded in the cavernous hall.

" _ **A NEW HAND TOUCHES THE BEACON!"**_

* * *

 **AN: Before anyone ask, yes, vosh contest is a ballgame in TES world. It is described in one of the books in the Elder Scrolls Online.**

 **And that white ball, which is obviously _not_ a vosh ball, can spawn in like **_**any**_ **chest in game. Quite annoying to some players, I know.**


	59. §3: Before the Dawn

**AN: Past few weeks are quite busy for me, and there are still many things to be dealt with in my near future. So that's why my update rate is going to hell in a handbasket…**

* * *

" _ **A NEW HAND TOUCHES THE BEACON!"**_

Saitama retracted his hand from the white ball instantly, and checked around for something looking like a beacon. Certainly the white ball in the chest could not be it, since it was not glowing or anything.

"Hey King! Did you touch something?"

Before Saitama received a response from King, the deafening female voice continued her speech.

" _ **Listen. Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy. Return my Beacon to Mount Kilkreath. And I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light."**_

That still did not explain what was the beacon.

"Maybe…" King was wiping the trace of vomit off his face. "Maybe she is talking about one of the brazier in the cave?"

The female voice rose again, sounded annoyed this time.

" _ **In the chest you opened lies my Beacon of Light. Foolish mortals."**_

"Is it the sword, the necklace, the boots or the white odd ball?" Saitama turned his attention to content of the chest again. "Wait, lady. Is this your chest?"

As Saitama talked, King moved forward to take a look at the content of the chest as well, hoping that there lied some explanations to many unanswered questions, such as what was the voice was talking about? What was the source of the voice?

There were many odd happenings in Skyrim, and King would not be surprised if the voice came from some sort of spirit or magic. For a second, King was worried that it could be another _Daedric Prince_ , but casted off the notion as he remembered how rare those mighty beings were.

Saitama, on the other hand, was quite used to strange voice coming out of nowhere these days. Not caring much about who this female was, Saitama chose to state the obvious. "Lady, since you're already here, why don't you get your beacon yourself?"

What a lazy woman.

Or maybe she did not get the beacon herself because…

Thinking of something, Saitama asked before the female voice replied. "Do you have disability?"

If that were the case, Saitama supposed he could offer some assistance.

Then the woman's voice returned with raised volume, and the tone turned unpleased.

" _ **You dense mortals do not know who you are talking to! I, Meridia, shall return to Skyrim with my glory. You will comply."**_

"Meridia? Another Daedric Prince…" King recognized the name and whispered, not feeling well again.

Saitama was calm as ever. "So she is probably not disabled. Just lazy."

King _really_ was not feeling well. Sensing that he was about to throw up once more, King gripped around instinctively. And by instinct, King puked inside the closest container within his hand's reach.

That was how King vomited right inside the treasure chest holding the Beacon of Meridia.

For a minute or so, the only sound could be heard in the cavern was the retching noise coming from King.

In the meantime, Saitama made a decision of leaving the place as soon as King finished puking – Saitama did not really want to deal with King's vomit in the chest or the pending assault from that loud voice. Besides, Saitama did not feel particularly guilty about leaving the puke there since a Daedric Prince should be able to get rid of it fairly easily.

The lazy lady should get something to do other than bossing people around anyway.

Therefore, when King finally lifted his head from the chest, done with vomiting, he was immediately dragged by Saitama towards the exit of the cave. Due to the lightheadedness from his second time of retching, King did not spare much of his mind dreading about the possible reaction of the Daedric Prince, neither did he notice much about his surroundings when following Saitama out of the chamber.

However, King was pretty sure that the female voice exclaimed something about her disapproval his puking. So it was perhaps the best if he did not know what exactly she said. As people said, ignorance is a bliss…

Eventually, Saitama and King exited the _secret door_ , whose existence was completely overlooked by the two, since it had already been opened by the unfortunate Forsworn group before the they arrived.

This time, while King still did not notice the door, he did notice the sword sticking out from an altar – the sword served as the key to the secret entrance. On a whim, King drew the sword, thinking of all the dangers he had encountered and would probably encounter in the future when traveling with Saitama. It would be good if King got some sort of weapon on him as insurance.

Then the two trotted out of the cave, as the secret door closed behind them with the key removed.

And that was how Meridia's beacon was locked inside a tomb along with the stink of vomitus.

* * *

After leaving the cave of the lazy Daedric Prince and several hours of searching, Saitama and King managed to find the large head sculpture they were looking for in a totally different location that also fit King's description.

The real Karthspire was actually at a place across the river from Red Eagle Redoubt.

The head sculpt they were looking for was, just as King said, inside a cave, and there was indeed some Forsworn camp around. But there was no Forsworn warrior inside, probably already taken out by Delphine and Esbern in their previous visit.

This should be right place.

King had to admit the sight of the sculpture and its surroundings was spectacular. The Akaviri stonework around them seemed ancient yet majestic. Tall concrete walls recessed in the center, where the head statue was built. In this atrium-like cavern, several braziers scattered and shrubs strewed, covered by the mist pervading the air near the ground.

The site was quite impressive to King, but not to Saitama.

"What now?" Saitama only wanted finish this information-gathering trip, which was dragging way too long.

Not that King did not wish to get this over with.

"According to Esbern," King walked to a large circular carving in the middle of the clearing. "This is a blood seal. The gate to the Sky Haven Temple will only open when the seal is triggered by blood."

"I don't see any gate around here…" Saitama said.

"I think it's the head-like thing there."

"Oh, okay. Let's find some blood first. Umm… Ah, there seem to be some goats outside this cave. We can catch one and use its blood. That will also take care of our dinner."

"There is a problem though…" The strength in King's voice weakened as he realized he should have mentioned this much earlier. He had simply been too distracted ever since the incidents in Markarth. "The blood has to be from a Dragonborn."

There was the awkward silence. Both King and Saitama did not know where to find a Dragonborn.

After some consideration, Saitama spoke up. "Is there anything unique about the blood of a Dragonborn?"

"Uhh… I am not sure either. I think some say they have dragonblood. Whatever that means…"

"So what if we find a dragon and ask for some blood?"

King's ever presenting frown deepened. "I don't think it works that way."

"Right… And dragons are quite hard to find these days anyway."

"Maybe just try goat blood first…" King concluded, partially because he started to feel hungry.

* * *

 _Of course_ goat blood did not work.

After a dinner with roasted goat as main course, Saitama and King once again tried to figure out how to open the gate. Breaking it was always an option, but Saitama worried that he might have to pay for the repairing.

King shared a similar sentiment about breaking the sculpture. He would have to face Esbern eventually, and he had not come up with any good explanation about such destruction. It was not like that he could simply tell the Blades he was not a Dragonborn at any rate, _AND_ he let another guy destroy the property of the Sky Haven Temple… Delphine would definitely kill him.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only option left now.

Saitama and King looked at each other.

"So, we need the info inside to defeat Alduin…" Saitama stated.

"It's the only way, isn't it?" King sighed. "In that case… uh… Mr. Satiama, just don't hit too hard, please."

Then Saitama smashed the head sculpt into pieces.

* * *

When Saitama and King were solving the problem about the sealed door, another two persons were on the way to the Sky Haven Temple.

Delphine and Esbern.

Not receiving any message from the Dragonborn for a while, the two Blades departed from the Solitude City a couple of days ago. They estimated the Dragonborn should have already found the Alduin's Wall, but was delayed for some reason.

During their journey to the Temple, they passed through the City of Markarth and overheard some peculiar news about the Dragonborn's appearance there. Wanting to hear the firsthand information from the Dragonborn, they picked up their pace, and should be arriving at their destination the next morning.

* * *

The next morning, Saitama and King woke up in the Sky Haven Temple.

The night before, after the gateway was _cleared_ , the pair entered the Temple through a corridor behind the shattered scuplture.

Just as King said, they found a large Akaviri mural in the Sky Haven Temple standing in the main area of the sanctuary. The exquisite artwork on the wall was stunning, depicting the stories among men and dragons that were lost in time.

Lost also were Saitama and King.

They were completely clueless about what the mural was portraying, let alone knowing where to find the means to vanquish Alduin. The bright side was that they did discover something _useful_ – several ownerless beds were aligned against the walls in one of the chamber.

At least, they had found a place to stay the night.

After the night had passed, Saitama and King were ready to depart from the place.

While Saitama did not have a particular destination, back to his shack in Helgen seemed to be a good option, that was, before King's contact managed to decipher the message on the mural.

King intended to stick with Saitama, since he did not feel good about his chance of survival in the wilderness of Skyrim without the other around. Also, King really thought this was not a suitable time for him to return to Solitude and face Esbern or Delphine after the sculpture was broken. No, he would simply send a letter to tell them the seal was _opened_ , and waited for those Blades to interpret the meaning of the Alduin's wall.

But the two's _plan_ , which actually was hardly a plan in a manner of speaking, was disrupted when another two showed up.

For better or for worse, Esbern and Delphine turned up just in time when King and Saitama were exiting the Temple.

What was most definitely on the _for worse_ part – the two Blades were standing right by the broken sculpture and staring at it…

"Dragonborn, how can you let this happen!?" Esbern blurted out, widening his eyes at the shattered stone pieces. "This is… _was_ an ancient Akaviri stonework built in the image of Reman Cyrodiil himself. A foundation stone of the Second Empire… This shrine was an invaluable heritage of Akaviri history. Now it is destroyed by…"

Esbern paused, remembering to whom he was talking. He had been too agitated by the sight to get a hold of himself.

"There must be a reason for the Dragonborn's doing." Delphine took over the conversation, and looked at King expectantly. "Why don't we let the Dragonborn explain his insight first."

Apparently, the two new arrivers both did not register Saitama's presence, or chose not comment on it.

"Uh, King. Who are these two guys?" Saitama asked.

King, at the center of everyone's attention, was at a loss at what to say, so he chose to answer the easier question. He whispered to Saitama, who was standing next to him. "These are Delphine and Esbern, the guys I've mentioned before. We got the info on the Alduin's Wall from them."

"Oh…" Saitama nodded.

That was one question taken care of, yet it did not solve the most crucial problem – why the sculpture was destroyed. And King was starting to get uncomfortable under Delphine's gaze.

Gritted his teeth, King spouted out. "I don't know what happened."

There was hint of skepticism in Delphine's eyes, while Esbern… Esbern had his attention drawn to something else.

Esbern walked to the blood sealed on the ground and looked at the dry fluid on it. There was quite a lot of blood, since Saitama and King nearly bled the goat dry last night trying to open the gate.

"Is this your blood, Dragonborn?" Esbern inquired.

Rigidly, King nodded.

"That's a considerable amount of blood!" Esbern exclaimed with a posture of contemplation. "Too much… Hmm, I think… I have a theory on what happened. These lost Akaviri arts, such as the blood seal, are intricate. The blood seal can only be triggered by the blood of a Dragonborn, and it's most likely hinges on the magical power within a Dragoborn's blood to activate the mechanism. We all know the dragonblood within the High King is strong, rivaling Talos himself. And he spilled this much blood on the seal, while it only requires drops under normal circumstances. The odds are, the Akaviri device simply cannot withstand such power."

"You're saying the magic force in the Dragonborn's blood broke the blood seal and thus the gate?" Delphine raised her eyebrows.

"Yes. A result of a design oversight, or the erosion of time…" Esbern concluded.

"That sounds…" Delphine paused with rumination and disbelief. "Remarkable!"

"That makes no sense…" Saitama muttered, but Delphine and Esbern either did not hear or preferred to ignore the statement.

Instead, Delphine brought up the main purpose of everyone.

"Dragonborn, since you've already been inside the Sky Haven Temple, did you find Alduin's Wall?" Delphine inquired.

"Yes." King finally calmed himself down a bit. "But we were unable to decipher the meaning of it."

"Hmm…" Esbern calmed down as well. "Let's go inside and take a look."

And inside the group of four went.

* * *

 **AN: Not sure when the next chapter will be up. I hope that it won't take as long as this one. Sorry for the slow update and the lack of reply. And thank you all for reading!**


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